


Binding

by rainbrounicorn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbrounicorn/pseuds/rainbrounicorn
Summary: Teen Wolf, spoilers through Season 2.  What is a watcher, and how does that bring a pack together?  Derek reluctantly finds Stiles to be the catalyst for developing a pack.  Alternating POVs, beginning with Stiles.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 144





	Binding

Stiles parks his Jeep across the street from Lydia's house. He flips his cell up to check the time; it's been five minutes.

_Breathe._

Her car isn't in the driveway. She probably hasn't gotten back from her summer job yet. Stiles hopes to hell that Jackson isn't driving around with her. He wants to catch her alone.

He looks over to the passenger seat, where the rose sits. He debated mightily whether or not he wanted to get that; after her rejection two months ago it took a bit to get his confidence back. But he knows that Lydia is the person for him; he has to convince her.

He taps a beat out on the steering wheel, then picks up his phone again. He thinks of texting her, but she might not come home if he lets on he's there. He has to do this right.

It seems like forever, but he finally spots a car coming up the street. _Fuck_. It's Jackson's Porsche. He doesn't even let Lydia drive it, even though she'd saved his life. _That's ok. I will show her I am the man to let her drive my Porsche._

When he gets one, that is.

This changes the plans a bit. He knows they're back together, so it might be a bad idea to come courting with Jackson right there. He can see Lydia having a passionate discussion with Jackson - _maybe an argument?_ his heart flutters - when Jackson looks over and sees Stiles.

 _Shit shit shit. Maybe he won't come over_.

Jackson parks the Porsche at the street in front of Lydia's house and gets out, walking around the car and toward Stiles. Lydia looks confused until she sees Stiles sitting in his Jeep, then opens the door and says something to Jackson. He ignores her, and makes it to the Jeep. Stiles briefly thinks of trying to get away, but thinks better of it. Best not to provoke the new soldier wolf.

Jackson opens the passenger door of the Jeep and makes to get in, then sees the rose. He stops, staring at it, lip curling up.

"A rose. For me, I take it?" There is no humor in Jackson's voice.

"Ah, no," Stiles says. "You're not my type. Too big, wrong hair, glowy eyes..."

"I don't know why I have to keep telling people," Jackson drawls. "I'm _everyone's_ type." He grabs the rose and tosses it out the door. Stiles beats his hands on the steering wheel in frustration, sighing. Jackson gets up in the Jeep and slams the door shut, and Stiles can see Lydia's worried face past him. _Is she worried for me? Cause I am._

"I don't think I've thanked you for your part in saving me," Jackson says, eyes locked on Stiles'. Stiles doesn't flinch, but he swears he will start seeing dead relatives beckoning any time now.

"No problem," he manages. "It's what I do. What we do. Scott and me." He leaves out the part where he suggested killing Jackson to be done with the kanima, though with that super hearing he probably heard it.

Jackson puts out a hand, palm up, jaw set. "Phone. Now."

Stiles squirms in his seat, looking back out at Lydia, who now is looking at her nails, like her boyfriend isn't threatening one of their classmates. He reluctantly hands the phone over to Jackson, who flips it up and begins tapping keys.

"Consider this your thank you," Jackson continues. "Also, the part where I'm _not_ kicking the shit out of you for bringing my girlfriend a rose."

"You are so incredibly benevolent," Stiles mutters. "What are you doing...?"

"There," Jackson says, and tosses Stiles' phone into his lap. "Just deleting one contact, is all. Like I said, this is my thank you." Jackson gets close to Stiles, and Stiles can smell his breath from where he stops; minty. "If you continue pursuing Lydia, I will hurt you. There will be blood." Jackson's eyes flash blue, and Stiles jumps back, slamming his head on the door window.

Jackson suddenly backs off, opens the door, and gets out. "See you around, Stiles," he violently smiles, and then slams the door.

 _That could have gone so much better,_ Stiles thinks as he starts the Jeep with one hand and rubs his aching head with the other. _Full humiliation and it's only Tuesday._ He looks back as he drives away, and Jackson is leading Lydia up her driveway, and she is engaged in conversation with him. She doesn't even watch Stiles go.

***

Derek hears their whimpering and immediately dashes to the entrance of the warehouse. As he flies toward them, Erica looks up at him. She is supporting Boyd, who looks like he took the majority of the - _torture_ \- and he growls as he reaches down and bodily lifts Boyd, bringing him to his makeshift bed. Erica pads after, stumbling as she goes.

"Where have you been?" Derek growls out, knowing full well with whom they've been.

"They are such lovely hosts," Erica says as she slumps in a couch.

Derek glares at Erica, concerned and angry that this could happen. They shouldn't have left him, but it was their choice. He wasn't going to stop them.

"Did they follow you here?" Derek asks, and Erica's eyes flash at that.

"We come in half-dead and you ask if they _followed_ us?" She makes to get up, wincing as she does. Derek places a hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down to the couch.

"Jesus, Derek. Of course they probably followed us. Where else were we going to go?"

"No where." Derek feels ashamed he had to ask, but he did. He has to know for sure. "After you left, I didn't think you'd be coming back."

Erica snorts. "They didn't want anything do with _us_ ," she mumbles. "They were very interested in _you_ , though."

Derek's phone vibrates, and he takes it out:

NEW MESSAGE (1/14): hope ur kids are back in 1 piece. we need 2 meet

Derek looks back at Erica. "Where did they keep you?"

"I don't know. They beat us up pretty good, put bags over our heads... and then dumped us out a van in the middle of Beacon Hills." Erica rests her face in her palms. "We shouldn't have... I just thought... you weren't a great pack leader, you know?"

Derek frowns. If only there were a handbook for that. His mother had made it look so easy. Even Laura had the charisma to get things together, plans in motion. Derek was playing second fiddle for too long.

_At this point you're not even playing in the concert._

"It doesn't matter now," Derek grumbles. His phone rings; same number as the text.

Erica looks angry as he answers.

Derek doesn't say anything but waits. "Derek Hale, I presume?" The voice is male and sounds young.

Derek's lips are pressed together, trying not to lash out like he wants to. "Yes," he manages.

"I hope you appreciate the sincerity of this invitation to meet, especially given our generous return of your pack members." There is a chuckle. "If I were you, I would have killed them for desertion, but each Alpha must do things their own way."

"What do you want?" Derek growls out.

"All in good time, Derek. We should meet. Beacon Hills Cemetery, tonight, ten o'clock. Be there, or... oh, I don't think I have to threaten, do I?"

"I'm bringing my pack," Derek says.

"I hope you do," says the voice. "Goodbye."

The line clicks, and Derek frowns as he considers his phone. He's going to need backup on this, and he can't take Boyd and someone should stay with Boyd. He already knows he has to call Scott if he wants help.

***

Stiles goes to Scott's house to maybe vent a little bit and see if he wants to practice lacrosse. Scott is in his room, laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Stiles lets himself in and stands over Scott, stretching his arms out over him.

"What is all this? This looks gloomy."

Scott sighs deeply. "Just a little." He manages a little crooked smile and props himself up on an elbow. "What's up with you?"

"Oh, you know, getting threatened by Jackson just a little bit. That guy is such an _ass_ , even after everything we did for him."

"Heh," Scott chuckles, "you wanted to kill him, remember?"

"And if you had listened to me, I might be months, nay, _years_ , closer to getting Lydia to love me!" Stiles pushes Scott's legs away and sits on the bed next to him.

"So where'd you see Jackson?" Scott crosses his arms behind him and props his head up. Stiles' eyes brush the skin now showing between Scott's shirt and pants. _Very nice, but off-limits_.

"I may have been waiting outside Lydia's house." Stiles rubs his hand over his head.

"Dude!" Scott's face is classic 'no way you did!' "Are you crazy? Jackson could rip you apart!"

Stiles laughs at that. "He could have when he was the kanima, and he gave me a run for my money, but now I can just call you right? You'll come and put on those glowy eyes and furry face and _save me_!" Stiles brings his wrist up to his forehead for effect and falls back on Scott's legs.

"Any time, man," Scott says. After a pause, he says "dating kind of sucks, huh?"

"Well I wouldn't know about that," Stiles says. "I'm down but not out. Neither are you. Just, we're gonna have perpetually broken hearts for a while."

"Yeah, but Allison actually _likes_ me. Well, did," Scott mutters. "Lydia doesn't give you the time of day, even after the awesome stuff you did."

"That's fine," Stiles says, determination in his voice. "She will come to see how much I love her in time. She is an angel fallen from the highest peak of heaven, and I am the mortal that will win her heart."

Scott laughs at that image. "She doesn't act like an angel. Why not spend all that energy on someone who _wants_ the attention?"

Stiles loudly snorts, then says "Aside from our cuddly sweet and very platonic bromance, who is lining up to ride this? I don't even have a height requirement!"

Scott smiles that crooked smile of his. "There's got to be someone. I mean, I didn't expect Allison to come along, and when she did, I was ready to jump on that."

Stiles' waggles his eyebrows, and Scott laughs, which then fades into his sad face.

This prompts Stiles to sit up suddenly and say "I think we both need, like, movies and ice cream and maybe some whiskey liberated from my dads stash. We can go get movies, and pig out, and drink until feelings are something all those unevolved human beings do, but not us. What do you say?"

Scott is about to answer when his phone rings. He has it out in a flash.

"It's Derek."

"Definitely don't answer," Stiles says. Derek, the ruiner of perfectly good _normal_ plans.

Scott answers.

"Yeah? No, we're not doing anything. Did you find... Oh. Oh! Yeah sure. Yeah. Stiles. He's coming too. Bye." Scott hangs up.

"No, absolutely not. We are staying _in_ , dammit. We are not going anywhere, especially at the behest of Derek Hale." Stiles sighs an exasperated sigh.

"The Alpha pack set up a meeting with Derek," Scott says. He gives an apologetic look, and Stiles knows of course they have to go to that.

 _Stupid Derek Hale_.

***

Derek forces Erica to stay back at the abandoned warehouse with Boyd. He hadn't realized the extent of what they had put Boyd through. It is going to take a while for him to heal.

He waits with Isaac and Peter at the entrance of the cemetery. Isaac's lips are pursed, arms crossed, head down. _He thinks this was his fault too_. Derek knows Erica and Boyd have no one to blame but themselves, but it still feels like he is responsible. _I am the alpha._

They wait in silence until Stiles' familiar Jeep rounds the bend and comes to a halt across the street. They wait a beat before getting out, crossing the road to meet them where they stand.

"Where's Jackson," Stiles says immediately, looking profoundly unhappy to be asking after him.

"Couldn't reach him," Derek says. This is humiliating. Three werewolves, one who isn't even pack, and _Stiles_. If they could talk the Alphas into submission, maybe Stiles would be useful.

 _That's not fair_. Stiles has done far more than Derek wants to admit. It's like he's always there, right in the middle of everything. _A liability_. If he hadn't saved Derek's life so many times he would have insisted on Stiles _not_ coming.

"Hi Scott," Peter says with a mischievous grin.

Scott curls his lip in distaste and doesn't respond.

"Let's go," Derek bites out.

They walk into the cemetery, Derek, Peter and Isaac leading, Stiles and Scott behind them.

"So you found Erica? And Boyd?" Stiles asks.

Derek grunts assent.

"Oh. Alive? Right?"

"Yes," Scott whispers.

"Oh come on Scott, they heard us the moment we pulled in, a little conversation isn't going to blow our cover-"

"Stiles," Derek growls.

"Yeah, I know, shut up." He does, for a moment. "Why the cemetery, anyway? Why not a really nice restaurant or conference center..."

 _No_ , Derek thinks when he can smell them. _They wouldn't_.

Derek breaks into a trot, and Isaac, Peter and Scott follow almost immediately. Stiles grumbles under his breath - "Ok, running now, that's fine" - and he runs to their graves, remembers exactly where to go, the flowers he brought up just the other day...

There is one figure standing over their graves, and Derek growls, eyes flashing.

He isn't tall or even terribly threatening looking. He smells _wild_. Derek stands outside the radius of the two graves, growling again, and Isaac and Scott come up to either side of him. Stiles hangs beside Scott, while Peter hangs back.

_Always the watcher._

"I miss the Hales," the man says. "I really do. They were a pack to be envious of."

Derek glares at this new threat, frowning, eyes aglow.

"But the Hale's still have something," the man says.

"Who are you?" Derek manages, feeling the rage boiling in him, wanting nothing more than to tear this man apart.

"My name is Phillip," he says. He waves his hand over the graves. "These two people, they wouldn't have had to die. That is, if they weren't weak."

Derek lunges at Phillip, and can remotely hear Stiles say "Oh god here we go."

Phillip is strong, but so is Derek. Isaac and Peter try to help, but he and Phillip are tangled together, biting and clawing, until Phillip loosens himself and runs off. Derek's instinct is to chase him, _kill_ him, but he suppresses it, standing tall next to Isaac. That's when they realize there are two other alphas closing in on them.

"I was hoping for an amicable arrangement," Derek can hear Phillip saying. "I was hoping you would be smarter - stronger than your parents." Derek fights harder with the rage of his comments, throwing his attacker through a headstone into a monument.

Isaac and Peter have subdued the other alpha, and Derek looks around, eager to confront Phillip. That's when he's tackled from the side by an alpha.

The next moments seem like a blur, as he fights off his attacker, and then arrows and bullets are flying.

 _Fucking Argents_.

He manages to run to Isaac and collect Scott. Peter is gone already, and they run as fast as they can. In a moment of panic, Stiles trips and falls flat on his face - _liability_ \- but Derek grabs him up into his arms and carries him. Stiles is yelling something, but Derek doesn't pay attention, just gets him to his Jeep. Stiles is about to say something to him, probably something stupid, and Derek roars "Go!"

He does. Derek is glad they - _Stiles_ \- are safe. Isaac is waiting in the car, and Derek hops in and speeds off. Derek feels bad momentarily for the look Stiles gave him, the 'I trust you' followed by fear. _Nothing can go right in this fucking town_. That's when he notices the arrow sticking out from his leg. _Fuck_.

***

Stiles is so mad at Scott right now.

They could have had a wonderful evening with mutual commiserating and ice cream eating and movie watching, but instead they'd been party to a werewolf-Argent combo attack. What was worse, he had fallen, again a liability to the cause. He had already been having nightmares of watching his father being tortured while he lay on the floor, unable to do anything...

He wanted to be able to do something, more than being whisked away by Derek. Derek, who had an arrow sticking out of him, probably a silver arrow, so Stiles can't even imagine how _that_ must have felt.

When Deaton calls, he thinks about ignoring him, continuing the pity party he is having in his bed. _No._ He answers, to stop this cycle. He wants to learn how to be powerful, and Deaton is offering him his best option to get there.

Deaton tells him to come in the evening, after the clinic closes. Stiles enters in the front door, then locks it and turns the 'OPEN' sign over to 'CLOSED,' as Deaton asked.

Stiles feels vaguely sick to his stomach as he goes to the back of the clinic. He isn't sure what to expect, only that he can have something, mean something, and not be -

"Did you remember to turn the sign?" Deaton asks as Stiles enters the main area of the veterinary hospital.

"Yup, sign turned, place closed." Stiles wrings his hands nervously, stomach buzzing somewhat uncomfortably. This is going to be it. This is going to be the thing that puts him in full with all the werewolf madness. He would laugh maniacally but Deaton might think he was crazy instead of just hyper and unbalanced.

"We're going to go slow, Stiles. The first thing I want you to learn about is the Bond." Deaton brings together materials Stiles is familiar with, and then puts his clasped hand out, palm down.

Stiles reaches his hand out tentatively, palm up, and Deaton drops a swirling, three-pronged silver amulet into it, green jewel glittering from its center.

Stiles is speechless for a moment, then says "I'm flattered, but I have nothing that will match this in my wardrobe."

Deaton smiles patiently. "The ritual I am about to teach you will bond you to a pack. You will be the Watcher for the pack, the healer, the researcher."

"The Watcher." Stiles stops.

"Yes," smiles Deaton.

"Like Buffy? I am the Giles to Scott's Buffy?"

"Like who?"

"TV show, aired in the nineties, supernatural kick-ass teenager kills vampires while trying desperately to manage her relationship with one..." Stiles gulps, looking expectantly at Deaton.

"I don't watch TV," he says.

"Of course not," Stiles mutters.

"Besides, this is real life, not fiction. This is your claim as a human to Scott's pack."

"So, is that all the Watcher does? Research? Spells? Claims? When do I get to throw bad guys around and cast fireballs?" Stiles fingers the amulet, which shines up at him mysteriously.

Deaton chuckles. "Watchers are many things for their Alphas and their packs. Watchers are defenders, concealers, mates, organizers, and more."

Stiles brain hitches at 'mates,' and thinks of Scott's reaction when he tells him _they_ could be mates. After all, what does Allison have on _him_ , other than charm, good looks, beautiful hair and the ability to _know when to shut up_. Oh and then there's that little thing she can do with a crossbow...

"Stiles?" Deaton asks.

"Uh, yeah! I was totally not thinking of being Scott's mate. Pack mom. Pack dad. Pack step-dad? My mind didn't go there at all."

Deaton rolls his eyes. "Those are things the Watcher _can_ be. This isn't something where I tell you what to do and you do it. I am giving you the knowledge I have, and it's up to _you_ to do with it as you will."

"Ahhhhh..." Stiles releases a long sigh.

"Historically, though, Watchers end up being life-long partners with the Alpha of the pack. The bond is so close and intimate, if the Alpha hasn't already selected a mate she may well choose her Watcher."

"I'm safe there, because even being broken up Scott still has googly-eyes for Allison. No competition here," Stiles says, cupping his manboob with a hand. "One question, though: how am I going to be pack mom if Scott isn't an Alpha?"

"You are Watcher to the pack. Typically you would bond with the pack leader. That can be an Alpha, or in the absence of, a Beta. You can even bond with an Omega, but it is a weak bond."

"And what happens if Scott never leads a pack?"

"You will still be bonded, and you will still both be more powerful than alone, but... a pack will make you both stronger."

Stiles considers Scott leading a pack. Which leads him to Scott and Allison having babies to enlarge the pack, and how young can werewolf children turn?... _if Derek weren't so closed up I'd ask him_.

"Any other questions before we begin?" Deaton asks.

Stiles thinks a moment. "What is this bond going to feel like? How will I know I'm bonded to Scott?"

"You will know," Deaton says, turning up the corner of his mouth a little.

"Ok, cryptic, but can I buy a vowel here? What can I _expect_?" Stiles shuffles nervously. Maybe he can expect to get glowy eyes or a set of furry wolf ears or maybe even the full fur coat.

"It's different for each Watcher and pack," Deaton starts. "It depends on your past, your emotions, your relationship with the pack leader. What I will say is, you will know." Deaton nods at the silver amulet Stiles is still fingering. "That is your focus. Silver can be deadly to a werewolf, but in your hands it can save lives."

Stiles stops twisting it around long enough to look at it closer. It looks old, maybe a bit tarnished. It looks used.

"Is this _your_... I mean, were you a watcher?"

Deaton chuckles again. "Yes, Stiles. I was."

"Was, and not now?"

"I was Felicia Hale's Watcher." Deaton's eyes twinkle, but his face remains the same.

The night at the cemetery, when Derek freaked out on Phillip... Phillip was standing in front of her grave. "Derek's _mom_?" Stiles moves his mouth silently, thinking it over. "But... Derek thought you were the Alpha. And Peter attacked you..."

"They didn't know," Deaton says. "That's another thing Watcher's can be: secret." After a pause, he adds "After Felicia's death, I watched over Derek and Laura. Made myself available to Laura. But they didn't know the full truth. Derek and Peter can't know." Deaton gives Stiles a piercing look, and Stiles nods, understanding.

"That shouldn't be a problem, as Derek doesn't like me and I _definitely_ don't like Peter." Stiles slips the silver amulet into his pocket, and Deaton clasps his hands together.

"Are you ready?" he says, beckoning Stiles toward him.

***

Stiles has all of the ingredients ready, just like Deaton showed him. Scott sits down across from Stiles, cross-legged, looking at the set up with a face that says "I'm humoring you."

"Come closer," Stiles says, and Scott look up, eyebrow raised.

"Ok," he says, scooting closer.

"No, no, like, _closer_ closer. Do you want this to work or are you going to make me feel like the ridiculous failure I most likely already am?" Stiles lets out a sigh as Scott obediently moves closer so their knees are touching.

"Alright," Stiles says, leaning his head over to read once again the notes he took. "Now, um, put both of your hands in my left hand..."

Scott releases a giggle but does what Stiles asked.

"...And I put my right hand on your chest, like so..."

Scott squirms and releases another giggle.

"Seriously, dude? Do you giggle this much in front of Alison, cause she's gonna think you're some creepy teenage touch-me-Elmo if that's the case."

Scott clamps down another giggle with an enormous smile. "Naw, sorry, just... it's weird doing this. With you."

"With me? What's that supposed to mean? Listen, this is not some spell-ey one-night-wolfpack-stand. I am going to be your _Watcher_. That's definitely serious."

"Sorry, sorry... ok, what next?" The grin hasn't subsided, but Scott looks more serious about the spell than he did before.

"There's this incantation," Stiles says. He reads it over again, even though he's already memorized it. He clears his throat, and lets it all out, even though Scott giggles twice through it.

Stiles finishes, and closes his eyes.

Nothing happens.

"Ok, so, maybe I did something wrong?" Stiles asks, definitely not to Scott, who answers anyway.

"Is something supposed to happen?"

"Yes, yeah. Hang on, I think I got it." He repeats the incantation again, concentrating hard, and Scott giggles at the end.

"Scott! C'mon man!"

"Sorry," he says guiltily with that dopey face of his.

They try the spell two more times, and nothing happens either time.

"Is something _supposed_ to happen?" Scott asks again, head cocked to the side slightly.

"Well, yes, I mean something _should_ happen. I'm honestly not sure what, but some kind of _bond_." Stiles frowns. "Did I leave something out?" He rummages through his materials bag for the fourth time, finding the same result.

"Did Deaton mention this?" Scott asks.

"I, uh, well he, uh, no." It seems like Stiles' frown is going to be there all night, like some Stiles-ey mock-up of Derek. "Let's try it again."

"Dude, this is like the fifth time. If it was gonna work it would have by now, right?"

Stiles wipes his hand over his head, darting his tongue over his lips. "I don't know. Maybe something _did_ happen, and we're totally all bondy and stuff but it just takes time for us to notice."

"You have to be pack, right?"

"Yeah, I think?" Stiles says cautiously.

"But you're not a .. you know, a werewolf."

"So?"

"So maybe you have to be?" Scott smiles apologetically.

"Scott, the concept here is _non-werewolf_ aid to the pack. I think Deaton would have said something if I needed to go get the bite first. I am pack and this seals the deal. Or consummates it. Or whatever." Stiles thinks a moment more. "Yeah, of course it worked. I'll mention it to Deaton, he'll say something like, 'Yes, that was the reaction you should have experienced,' because honestly, the guy is really good at cryptic." Incredibly cryptic.

Scott nods and grins, believing what Stiles has just told him. It is so good, Stiles' almost believes it too, but the doubt nags. _You will know_ , Deaton's voice teases him. Now Stiles wishes he had asked Deaton what to do if it _didn't_ work.

Then it dawns on Stiles: the amulet he is holding is shaped in a pattern he has seen before, on Derek Hale's back.

_Fuck._

***

The joke is on Jackson, because Stiles has Lydia's phone number committed to memory. Stiles calls Lydia before his nerve runs out, hoping against hope that she will pick up the phone.

It is his lucky day, because she answers.

"Lydia?" Stiles says.

There is a pause. "Stiles. What do you want?" She sounds bored.

"Ok, hear me out, I promise I'm not going to say anything about how amazing or intoxicating you are. I actually need your help." He takes a breath. "I have a bit of a... werewolf problem."

Lydia _tsks_. "You accepted the bite, didn't you? Derek Hale has looked like he wanted to bite you for a while."

Stiles brain stops. "Ah, no. Not that. Something decidedly not-bitey. Actually, it's this amulet I have that's shaped like a triskelion."

"Mm-hmmm" Lydia says, again sounding bored.

"I'm using it as part of a ritual, and I'm trying to find out if it... means something more."

"Still not interested," Lydia drawls.

Stiles takes a breath. "I'm trying to perform a ritual to become a part of Scott's pack. Something that can bind us all together, and maybe help protect us." Stiles pauses. "And even Jackson," he admits grudgingly.

Lydia is silent for a moment. "I will need to see it," she says.

"I can come over right now if that works." Stiles heart skips a beat, and he tamps it down. _Not the time._

"Fine," she clips out.

"Thank you so much," Stiles says. "You won't regret this, not even a little bit, I promise."

"Mm-hm. See you."

Lydia hangs up, and Stiles finds himself again tamping down the butterflies in his stomach. "Not now," he says to them. "Not now at all."

It looks like Jackson isn't there when he gets there. Unbidden, he remembers Lydia embracing Jackson after he came back to life. Stiles had cried at that, couldn't help it. There was something touching, and heart breaking, and... _something he would never have_.

He rings the doorbell politely, prepared to flash the amulet so Lydia knows he is on the level about asking for her help.

She answers the door, and he has _those_ feelings again. Still, he holds the amulet up, and she reaches out. He grasps her hand in a friendly hand shake, which causes her to purse her lips.

"The amulet, Stiles."

"Oh!" Stiles says, cheeks going red. So much for being subtle.

He hands the amulet over, and she turns it around in her hands. She goes back into the house, and Stiles enters behind her, closing the door. The last time he was here he'd seen his dad, and - _you killed your mother. you killed her and now you're killing me_ -

"So how is this going to help protect the pack?" Lydia hands the amulet back to Stiles, interrupting the bad memory.

"It's going to make Scott stronger," Stiles says. "I can kind of focus his pack powers, amplify them if you will."

Lydia purses her lips. _God she's cute._ "Jackson isn't a part of Scott's pack."

"No, not yet," Stiles admits. "Scott.. I mean, we are hoping he will come around. We are all stronger with him. Than against. Him." Stiles gulps. "And of course you would be pack too, a part of the Scooby gang." Stiles smiles awkwardly, and Lydia rolls her eyes.

"I've seen that before," Lydia says, and Stiles' heart skips a beat. _Did she notice Derek's tattoo also?_ "It's a pre-Celtic design. Since then it's been used as an emblem of name."

"Name?" Stiles asks.

"Sure, a version is used by the Irish Air Corps. So you are using this in the ritual and...?"

"And..." Stiles says, giving a pregnant pause. "It isn't working."

"Maybe it's worked and you don't know it."

"Deaton said I would _know_ it worked. Like I would know know." Stiles rolls it in his hands, then plops it back in his pocket.

"Why don't you call Deaton then?" Lydia crosses her arms.

"I didn't want him to know it didn't work," Stiles says carefully. "If it won't work on Scott, I don't know what else to do."

"There _are_ other werewolves, you know," Lydia says.

Stiles pauses, mouth open. "What, like Jackson? Or Derek?"

Lydia nods, as if to say, 'Just to name a couple.'

"No, that is _not_ happening. Not even a little bit."

Lydia shrugs. "Good luck with that," she says as she walks to the front door, opening it.

***

Stiles presses 'SEND', and lets out a nervous laugh. He is not prepared for all of this, not ready to think about the implications of having Derek Hale as a pack leader, but ready or not he went over them in his head anyway. From Stiles' point of view this is the best way he can continue to help Scott out and have some power behind it. The best part is Scott won't have to know, at least not for a long while, and by then maybe he'll understand.

A small part of him still says _he kissed Lydia; fuck him_.

"Stiles?" Derek sounds surprised he is calling. "Are you alright?"

 _Am_ I _alright?_ "Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I want to, uh, I have a proposition for you." Stiles runs his hand over his head. He is nervous, though not as nervous as when he talks with Lydia, but still - Derek is hot, and off limits, and - _god Stiles, pathetic_.

There is silence on the other side of the line. Stiles can't even imagine the things going through Derek's mind at that moment.

"Well?" Derek asks, sounding irritated.

_He always sounds that way. It isn't just me..._

"Ok, so Deaton taught me this, this _thing_ , and I think it would really help us against the Alphas. But the thing is, it didn't work on Scott."

There's a long pause. " _Well_?"

"Well, what?" Stiles asks, not hiding his own irritation.

Derek sighs. "What is the _thing_?"

"Oh." Stiles gulps. "So, I tried to bond myself to Scott."

There is a longer pause. "Seriously."

"Listen, I wouldn't have called you if this wasn't important, or couldn't make some difference to..." And then it hits Stiles. He could already _be_ bonded. They can be secret. And this would make him seem ridiculous and silly and... _well, like the teenager you are_.

But that wouldn't make sense. Derek, with his I-look-like-a-silent-serial-killer issues, probably isn't bonded to anyone. The last person he really knew he _killed_ , and Peter is now walking about like some kind of werewolf Lazarus.

"You want to be my _Watcher_? Do you even know what that means?" Derek sounds condescending, but Stiles vaguely thinks he's not going for that.

"Well, I have the general idea of what that means. I mean, in principal. I think in practice it will help strengthen us, all of us."

Derek sighs. "Does Scott know?"

Stiles closes his eyes, running a hand over his head. "Not in so many words, no. But this will help him too. Us. All of us."

"I get that, Stiles." Derek sighs again. "No."

"No?" Stiles moves his mouth soundlessly. "Really? I mean, no?"

"No, Stiles. But..." Derek pauses, and Stiles can almost see Derek trying to come up with words for this, frown stuck on his face. "Thanks."

Stiles waits for him to hang up, then hits 'END'. Rejection burns in his abdomen, and he grasps his phone tightly. He should really call Deaton.

***

Derek has successfully avoided the Hale house, and they found a new place for the pack. _If by new one means 'new to us'_. Isaac had gotten the house when his father had been killed, and if they could just arrange the tax payments, they could move in. It was really generous of Isaac, but Derek kept feeling guilty about it. Here Isaac was, in the house where so many unspeakable things happened to him, reliving it again and again for all they knew.

_Et tu, Brutus?_

Peter hadn't shown up after the cemetery incident, and Derek hadn't bothered looking for him. He figured when he wanted something, or wanted to advance whatever plan he was hatching, he would.

He gets a call from Phillip the day after they move, and they must have been secretive enough, because Phillip asks where they've gone to.

"What do you want?" Derek asks, still very angry with Phillip for the slights on the Hale name. _My mom. And dad._

"Just wanted to check in, really. Haven't seen you up at the Hale house recently."

"Hmph." It's all Derek can manage.

"Well, Derek, truth be told, we're looking for something." Phillip gives a gregarious laugh. "And as soon as we find it, we will leave you alone to your little town. That is, unless you want to come with us."

Derek's stomach lurches. _A pack. A big pack. I could be part of a pack again._ Derek stops that thought process before it gets to the part where Derek would like nothing more than to be pack again, and not in charge. _I can't do that._

"No," Derek says.

"That's fine. But we always get what we want."

The line clicks, and Derek frowns.

What are they looking for? Do they think something is up at his old house? _Other than the memories_. There could be, but if there is, Derek doesn't know what it is. But then Peter had been hiding something right under his nose in the house, and he'd been none the wiser.

Derek decides he should go to the house. Should he tell his pack? Boyd and Erica have begrudgingly rejoined his pack, a tenuous kind of bond. Isaac has been his, but has been spending enough time with Scott that he wonders how much of his pack is actually his anymore.

In the end he gives Erica, Boyd and Isaac the choice. They all decide to come. Derek is relieved, and satisfied, and terrified. _They will leave you, and it will be your fault._

Derek has Erica and Boyd make a perimeter around the house, being extra careful to check for traps. Derek still doesn't know how the Argents knew about the cemetery meeting, or why they decided to intervene when and how they did, but he knows he can't count them out of his problem with the alphas.

He takes Isaac to the house, leaving him just inside the door as a lookout.

The house is dark and gloomy, but that is normal. Derek makes a sweep of the first floor, even checking the staircase for anything else that might be hiding there. He can't smell anything out of the ordinary, and for a moment feels like an idiot. _Yet again, being dragged along by your nose instead of leading ahead._

Derek is downstairs, checking the basement, when he hears howling. _Erica_. He runs up the stairs and out the front door, which Isaac has left open. He doesn't see anything, and runs around the house.

Erica is crouched next to Isaac. They are both facing the woods. That's when Derek smells them, the alphas. The woods alight with glowing red eyes and Derek frowns. He runs to join his pack, and sees Boyd running to them as well.

Phillip exits the forest boundary followed by seven alphas. _Fuck_. He strolls toward the pack, smiling that innocuous smile. Derek hunches, waiting for an attack, when another alpha comes forward from the tree line. He is huge - _fucking huge_ \- and fully transformed. He towers over Phillip when he gets to him, smiling evilly with his wolfy mouth.

Derek is trying not to feel overwhelmed. He can feel the fear on the other three, especially Boyd, he can smell it. Derek is not afraid. There was only one thing he had ever been afraid of, and that _had happened_.

"This.. is the one?" the enormous werewolf grumbles out.

"Yes," Phillip drawls, "Derek Hale in the flesh. Derek, this is our packleader, Jedrzej."

Derek looks the werewolf up and down. _Why the fuck my life_?

"The Hale... pack is in shambles," Jedrzej rasps out. "I seek an old family heirloom.." Jedrzej seems to groan and growl at once. "Given this, I will accept you... into my pack."

Erica and Isaac and Boyd are looking at Derek expectantly. Whether they expect him to comment on this potential pack invitation or on some heirloom that is of worth to a pack of alphas he can't know. He does know that there aren't any Hale _anythings_ left, not after the fire.

"What heirloom?" Derek questions.

"A piece of jewelry," Phillip says. "Sort of like this one." He holds up a silver ring, and Derek can't make out the detail on it. He knows he doesn't have a ring, let alone a Hale ring.

"I don't have any jewelry," Derek says.

Jedrzej growls, eyes aglow.

"You've searched my house, attacked my pack. I want you gone. Now." Derek knows he has gone wolf, and his pack beside him are taut, ready.

Phillip shrugs lazily and turns around, walking back into the forest. Derek thinks for one moment that they _will_ leave, that he can resume building a pack and some kind of normalcy, and maybe even learn to be a good alpha.

Jedrzej lurches toward Derek, rasping as he nears. "We will have what we search for, Hale," he hisses, hanging on the 'l' of Hale.

Derek leaps at Jedrzej who swipes him away. Derek crashes into the ground, air knocked out of him. Derek gets up with a wheeze and finds it in him to roar.

Erica and Boyd leap at Jedrzej from either side as Isaac circles. Jedrzej grabs Erica out of the air and throws her at Derek, who manages to slow her crash to the ground. Boyd manages to get purchase on Jedrzej's shoulder, striking at his head as Isaac leaps to Jedrzej's back.

Jedrzej shakes Isaac off his back and right hooks Boyd in the face, sending him to the ground like a rag doll. Derek is charging again, not sure what the plan is _other_ than violence.

Jedrzej grabs Derek by the throat, stopping him dead, and squeezes. Derek feels like his head is about to burst, gasping for air, and Jedrzej pounds him to the ground, breathing hot in his face, suffocating him further.

"Take... him," he rasps back, and Derek can see Isaac heading to Jedrzej's head for a blow when he is impaled by Jedrzej's claws. Derek wants to do something, stop this from happening, but it is over and Derek loses consciousness.

***

Stiles calls Deaton, prepared to admit that he can't bond with anyone. He thinks it failed with Scott, Derek rejected him, and there's no way he's bonding with Jackson. He is glad Deaton is teaching him other things, things that will give him an advantage in a fight. He also wouldn't mind Deaton explaining the triskelion.

The machine at the clinic picks up, and Stiles impatiently hangs up and tries again. He gets the machine again, and decides to leave a message.

"Hey Deaton, just Stiles. I have some questions, if you could call me." Stiles hangs up.

Here he is, sitting at home, feeling useless while a pack of wolves does who-knows-what, Peter plots who-knows-what, Scott works, and Lydia mingles with he-knows-who. He decides to get his lacrosse gear together and go play some, because it will give him some exercise and a healthy distraction. _And if I can make Captain, even better_.

Stiles throws the gear in the Jeep and his phone rings. It's Scott.

"Stiles. Where are you?"

"Home, thank you very much. Everyone seems to have something else to do at the moment, so I found something to do."

"Get to the clinic as soon as you can." Scott sounds urgent, and Stiles hops in the Jeep, ready to get there quickly.

"What's going on?" Stiles asks, speeding off.

"The alphas have made a move."

After they hang up, Stiles feels great. He has a sense of purpose. Something is happening, and the promise of helping and saving the town - or, at least, his friends - is a strong appeal.

The closed sign is up when Stiles gets there. He tests the door, finding it unlocked. He enters, locking it behind him. He is not prepared for what he sees in the main room.

Derek has a bloody place of honor on the table. He looks practically eviscerated, totally naked, almost not even Derek, but something about the body tells Stiles that it is Derek. Scott and Boyd stand over him, touching him, and weird, creepy black tendrils are coming out of Derek and into them. Isaac is laying against the back wall, and Erica is doing the same thing to him.

"Whu-what?" Stiles manages.

"Stiles," Deaton says, grabbing his shoulder. "Do you have your focus?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, pulling it out of his pocket.

"Ready to learn more?" Deaton asks, smiling. There is tension behind the question, urgency in the smile.

"Of course," Stiles says. "Born ready even."

Deaton smiles again - _a smile that says he knows something I don't_ \- and brings him over to Derek.

The sight is enough to make Stiles gag a little. The smell isn't great either.

"What the fuck happened? And what are they doing?" Stiles asks, looking horrified.

"Later," Deaton says simply. "Hold the amulet tightly, and put your hand here," and Deaton points to Derek's bloody and scarred chest.

"He's not healing," Stiles says, mouth hanging open, placing his hand on Derek's chest - _blood on my hands, blood on my hands_ \- and takes a deep breath.

Deaton begins a chant, and Stiles picks up the chant the second time around, and when Deaton stops and goes to a cabinet, Stiles just keeps chanting, trying not to concentrate too hard on the mess that is Derek. _He was so hot, and now_ \- Stiles gulps, continuing.

Deaton stands opposite Stiles, grinding something together with a mortar and pestle. He brings some to his nose, makes a horrible face but nods. He tosses some of the powder over Stiles hand -

_The biggest freaking werewolf ever, hungry, strong, claws long and sharp, voice deep and gurgling and stilted - he swipes across Stiles' chest -_

Stiles gasps and falls backward, clawing at his chest. Deaton looks shocked, as does Scott, who manages to bring Stiles up.

"Dude, you're white as a ghost -"

That's when Derek speaks.

"Stiles..."

Deaton looks down at Derek, then back at Stiles. "Come on, we have to continue. Are you alright?"

"Fine," Stiles says, shaky and uncertain if he really is. Scott helps Stiles to Derek's side, where he replaces his hand and continues the chant. Scott resumes the freaky black-sucking thing he's doing, and Stiles really hopes they're going to explain that bit of weirdness after this is all done.

***

Stiles is exhausted. It was a long time - _or maybe a short time?_ \- until Deaton asked Stiles to stop. Derek didn't look any different. He still looked dead, but Deaton must have seen something Stiles didn't. Scott took Stiles outside while the others tended to Isaac, who at least _looked_ alive.

Stiles is still wobbly, so decides to sit on the front step. Scott sits next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"How do you feel?" Scott asks.

"Like I just had all my mojo sucked out of me. I could really go for a huge meal. Or maybe sleep for twenty hours. Or both." Stiles rubs his hand over his head. "What happened?"

"Derek and his pack met Jedrzej," Scott begins. "He's the prime alpha, according to Deaton."

Stiles touches his chest with a hand, remembering the vision. "I think I saw him. Just now."

Scott looks concerned. "Oh. He was looking for something, Erica said. Some piece of Hale jewelry. But I've never seen Derek wear anything like that."

Stiles gulps. He pulls out his focus and holds it up. "Like this?"

Scott looks at it, focusing. "Hey, that looks like Derek's-"

"Tattoo," Stiles finishes, nodding. "Deaton gave it to me as my focus."

"Where did Deaton get it?" Scott asks, reaching for it.

"Can't say," Stiles says, letting Scott examine it. Stiles lets drop whether or not he doesn't know, or was told he can't say. Luckily Scott misses the subterfuge.

Scott hands it back, brows furrowed. "I wonder why they want it so bad."

"Did you just see me in there? I could... feel something. I felt Derek, like I was in there, healing him. Speaking of which, what was that thing you were doing in there?"

Scott smiles sheepishly. "Werewolves can take away pain," he says.

Stiles stares at him. "That's it?"

"Well, that can be a lot. Derek is in a lot of pain."

Stiles nods. "I know." Something in him has changed, too, some part that was apathetic to Derek, and then cautiously helpful, and now...

***

Derek wakes up in Dr Deaton's clinic. He can remember the prime, and getting beaten down, and there was more...

"Derek," Deaton says, coming to his side.

Derek groans, looking down. His body has healed, though he can see scars that are going to take a long time to heal.

"Isaac," he says. Last he remembered...

"He's fine," Deaton says immediately. "He is back at his house with Erica and Boyd. I told them there was nothing they could do here. They are resting."

Derek moves to sit up, getting a shot of pain. He winces, and Deaton reaches tentatively out, not touching Derek.

"I'm fine," Derek growls. Then, quieter: "Thank you."

"We need to talk about something, Derek." Derek looks up at Deaton, at those twinkling eyes that seem to know so much.

"What?" Derek manages.

"Stiles saved your life." Deaton says.

Derek groans.

"You should ask him to be your Watcher," Deaton continues. "He has great power, and you have great potential. The Bond is rare as it is, but seeing him with you... I am convinced that your bond would be profoundly rewarding and powerful for you both."

Derek sighs. "I am not bonding with Stiles Stilinski."

"Why not?" Deaton asks, examining Derek's healing wounds.

 _He's too young. He's annoying. The curve of his neck, tingle of his nervousness_...

"Because," Derek says.

Deaton sighs. "You stand on a precipice, Derek. Here you have a choice, possibly one of the last you will make as an alpha with a pack: to potentially join your pack with a Watcher, or continue on, fractured and weak." Deaton brings Derek a shirt and pants.

Derek takes the clothing gratefully, easing them on his body. He is going to be sore for a while after this.

"How did he... save my life?" Derek asks.

"Stiles is powerful. Using the silver focus I gave him, he was able to channel your body's healing and expunge the poison from the prime."

Derek stops. "Silver focus?"

"Yes," Deaton says. Derek looks at Deaton questioningly. "In fact, it's an old Hale relic."

"Why do you have-" Derek hadn't considered the possibility that something had survived other than what Laura and he had taken with them, which wasn't a lot.

"I find broken things," Deaton says carefully.

Then Derek realizes Deaton gave Stiles an amulet that the alphas want. "Are you _stupid_?" Derek growls. "I can't let Stiles hold on to that, the prime wants it."

Derek makes to get up and Deaton stands in front of him, eyes dark. "Stiles needs that amulet, nearly as much as you need him. Do you think I'm not teaching him how to defend himself?"

Derek feels a lip curl up. "And what am I supposed to do if, _when_ , he gets hurt?"

"You can work together to prevent that." Deaton moves in close to Derek. "Do you know what Stiles' name is?"

***

Stiles reaches for his phone, which is ringing.

_Derek? What the-_

He answers, slight butterflies in his stomach.

"Derek? Are you ok?" Stiles has a hard time believing Derek _would_ be okay.

"Yeah," he says.

After a pause, Stiles says "Good. Good."

After another pause, Derek sighs. "I would like to talk more about you being my Watcher."

Stiles heart leaps. He doesn't know why, but his mind immediately goes to what Deaton said about Watchers and their Alphas, and then Stiles is picturing Derek naked, and - _this conversation will be awkward with a boner_.

"Ok," Stiles says, "why now?" He is going to make Derek spill the beans on this revelation, especially after the rejection.

Stiles can almost see Derek fidgeting, that is, if Derek did fidget. "I want the pack to be strong. I think you can help do that."

"I _can_ do that," Stiles says, matter-of-factly. "It may take some time, but we can totally craft ourselves into a powerful, crime-fighting pack unit."

There is a pause, then a sigh.

"Ok," Stiles says hurriedly, "I'm not trying to make you regret this or anything. It's just, I want... I want to be..."

"What?" Derek asks.

_Strong. Enabled. Yours._

Stiles isn't sure where the last part is coming from, but he feels the butterflies again, the desire to not make a complete jackass out of himself in front of this hot older guy. This is a chance, and Stiles has risen to challenges before, challenges harder than this one. _I've also failed chances this hard or easier_.

"I want to help," Stiles decides on.

He arranges to meet Derek the following night because his dad won't be home and he can prepare for the ritual. Derek agrees, and it's a date. _I have a date with Derek Hale_ , Stiles' brain teases, then tamps down. _He will reject you too_.

Stiles is at his computer when his bedroom window opens, nearly scaring him to death.

"Jesus, man, I thought you might come in through the front door or something."

Derek shrugs, standing tall. "This is 'or something'."

Stiles smiles sarcastically. "Sourwolf has a sense of humor, I see."

Derek stares at Stiles, deadpan.

"Ok, let's get started?"

Stiles has the materials ready, and the weird feeling of deja vu ends when Derek kneels in front of him, knees touching his. Stiles is about to say something when Derek pulls his shirt off.

_Fuck._

"Ah, I don't think that's necessary," Stiles says, looking up and down Derek's chest. _Fuck._ Derek is again shirtless in his room, and Stiles isn't sure why this is different than before but he can feel his heart beating faster. _And Derek can probably hear the mariachi band in there too_. Stiles notices the scars along Derek's abdomen, neck, arms.

"This is part of the ritual," Derek says, then pauses slightly. "Are you ok?" Derek looks - _is that concern?_ \- at Stiles expectantly.

"Yeah, fine, I do this all the time. Gruff men, strange rituals, and for that matter, running through dark cemeteries at night. For kicks, really." Stiles is trying to calm his heart down but is failing, so ignores it. He is also trying not to let his eyes settle on Derek's sculpted chest. He can smell Derek from where he is perched, so close, and he smells good - like its been a few hours since a shower and he's done some work in that time. Derek looks vaguely uncomfortable, like he can almost read Stiles' mind.

Stiles reaches out a hand, and before he can say anything, Derek puts his hands in his. Stiles looks at him, eyebrows raised. "Do you know the ritual?"

Derek doesn't meet his eyes. "Yes," he says after hesitating.

"Are you bonded? Were you, I mean? I mean, have you ever -"

Derek interrupts Stiles with an incredulous look, then says "No."

"Ok, Mister McGrumpy pants, just asking." Stiles rolls his eyes, then reads over the incantation once more. "Do you mind if I..."

Derek rolls his eyes now.

Stiles nods, pursing his lips. He reaches out his hand, placing it against Derek's chest.

 _That's nice. Damn. He's warm._ Stiles eyes flick over Derek's body again, face flushing.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Derek asks again.

"I'm a perfect picture of health and well-being," Stiles lies. "Ok." Stiles takes a deep breath and recites the incan'tation.

Derek looks up suddenly, meeting Stiles' eyes, and both part their mouths.

***

Stiles looks over and sees her waiting at the classroom door, and after a moment the teacher sees her too. He greets her amicably, and she apologizes for interrupting class.

"Can I speak with Derek please?" She smiles that beautiful smile, the one that no one can say no to, and his teacher agrees, motioning for Stiles to go into the hall.

Kate closes the classroom door, and Stiles isn't sure why she's here. She told him they had to be a secret, they couldn't see each other in public like this, but she's here and he's happy.

"Walk with me?" she asks, taking Stiles' hand.

"Of course!" Stiles says. This is a nice surprise, and he would gladly ditch class to go walking around with Kate. _Maybe I can take her to where I told her I was a werewolf and we can have sex -_

The hall is abandoned, and she stops in front of his locker. She presses him up into it, and for a moment he is horny and in love and thinks she might kiss him and the danger -

"You are going to leave town." Her face drops, dead serious, her voice harsh.

Stiles shakes his head, smiling dumbly. "What?"

"You are the most pathetic creature I have ever seen, and I've seen a few pathetic creatures. You will leave town with your sister and you will never come back, or _I will kill you_." Her eyes glint, her mouth set.

Stile's eyes begin to water, mouth contorted into confusion and sadness. "What - why -"

"It cries?" Kate sneers. "You've really had me fooled, Derek, making me _almost_ think you - your kind - had feelings."

Stiles shakes his head. "No, no -"

Kate smiles. "You have nothing left here in Beacon Hills, Derek." She slams him roughly against the locker, and Stiles reaches a hand to grab her, but she nabs it with her other hand and twists his wrist up, snapping it. "Leave town. Or watch your sister die. And then watch me slowly kill you."

Kate releases him, and he falls on his butt, back against the locker, crying silently. He looks up at Kate searchingly, waiting for this all to be some kind of horrible joke, but she is already almost out of the building.

"Laura Hale to the principal's office," Stiles hears overhead. After a pause, "Derek Hale to the principal's office."

 _No. No, this can't be happening._ She was the first one outside the family he had connected with. He was being so careful, afraid to make friends because of his secret, and he had his niche as the quiet loner until Kate.

Stiles goes to the principal's office, and Laura is right behind him in the waiting room. She looks him over, then rushes to him.

"What happened?" she demands.

"Nothing," Stiles sniffs. "I'm fine." _I want to die_. His wrist is stiff but is healed.

Laura looks concerned, but she puts an arm around his shoulder and leads him into the principal's office.

"Close the door," Principal Marsh says gently.

Laura sets Stiles into a chair and goes back to shut the door. Stiles wipes his face, breath hitching. Mr. Marsh's heart rate is rising and he smells nervous. _Please, no_ -

"Kids, I'm really sorry. There's been an accident." Mr. Marsh leans forward, hands steepled on the desk. "There was a fire this morning at your house. Right now, it looks like there was only one survivor."

Laura's mouth hangs open, eyes wide with shock. Stiles begins crying again, shaking all over. _Nooooo_...

"Who?" Laura gasps, tears in her eyes.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. The sheriff called as they were sorting everything out. If you feel you need to talk -"

Laura stands, mouth set. "No. We need to go. Obviously." She puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder, guiding him up and out. As they leave, he glances at her face, and her eyes flash red -

And suddenly Stiles is standing in front of the house. There are body bags lined up outside, and several police cars. The house is smoking, a wreck, not at all the majestic manse it had been when he'd left for school that morning.

Laura is searching the bags, unzipping, and moving on, and Stiles follows her, looking down after each one. _Cousin Harold, and Aunt Esmerelda, and_ -

Laura stops and drops to her knees. Derek comes up behind her, then drops to her side.

 _Mom_.

She is badly burned and blackened, but he knows.

Stiles sees Deputy Stilinski come up to them. "Kids, you really shouldn't do that."

Stiles stares at him indignantly, daring him with tears in his eyes to stop them. Laura looks up at him, eyes hard.

The deputy just nods, his own eyes wet. He turns and walks away.

Stiles wants to howl and roar. He looks at Laura, who looks at him calmly, shaking her head. _She is my alpha now._ Stiles nods, and cries into his hands -

And then it's night and they're running through the forest with abandon, out far away, and when they are far enough they howl mournfully, and Stiles knows they are going to leave-

And then they are at the funeral, the last one, for mom and dad. Laura and Stiles stand together, holding hands; neither of them wanted to say anything. The service is almost over, and they are lowering the bodies, and Stiles wants to jump in and let them bury him with his most favorite memories and feelings, because he knows after this all there is is emptyness.

Then Stiles notices the Suburban parked away and across the street. _The Argents._ Stiles feels a pang of anger and rage and fear, and Laura tightens her grip on his hand -

And Stiles looks into Laura's face, lifeless, body torn and bloody, and Stiles curses and cries and buries her properly, practically. He washes off the dirt and blood and glances up into the mirror, and stares at Derek, eyes red and mouth angry.

 _Shit shit shit_ -

***

Realization dawns on Derek. He can feel tears at his eyes, all of the emotions coming to the surface immediately, and he rages. He grabs Stiles by his shirt front and bodily lifts him, slamming him against his bedroom wall. Stiles is full on crying, mouth agape, trying to speak.

"I didn't know, I didn't know, I'm sorry I'msorryimsorryimsorry..."

Stiles goes on like a broken record, then begins hyperventilating. Derek realizes he is still slamming Stiles against the wall, and stops, breathing heavily. He glances over at the mirror; red eyes, full on wolf. His insides feel like a roiling storm, and he briefly feels shame and fear at his lashing out. It is replaced immediately by the overwhelming loss. He just relived it. And Stiles knows.

Derek drops Stiles unceremoniously to the ground and runs for the window, diving out, smashing through the glass and wood because of course, he had closed it behind him.

Derek lands harshly, but doesn't feel pain. He runs, and runs hard. His senses are non-existent to him. He doesn't know how long he runs, but he ends up at the house somehow, panting wildly and out of breath.

 _Why did I come here?_ It occurs to him suddenly that the house is being watched, both by the Argents and the Alphas, and he curses. And then he sees her, at the front porch. He knows she has just talked to deputy Stilinski, and she is being strong for him. He approaches her slowly, taking in her form. When he gets to her, he nuzzles her arm tentatively, and she turns, eyes angry and wet.

Laura gathers him close anyway, letting him nuzzle in the crook of her neck, and this is all he has now. He can smell the house, _the death_ , but he can't smell Laura.

"Come now, be strong Derek." Laura's voice is strange, unearthly. She pushes him away and grabs his hand. She walks him up the front steps, and he whines, hesitating. She glances back, eyes flashing red, and he follows. She walks him to the door, which she opens, silently slipping into the house - _that mark, I recognize that mark_ \- and he follows. They walk past the stairs, which he belatedly realizes are on fire. The entire house is _on fire_. He jumps, but Laura holds him fast. She is now half-dragging him, and he tries to fight her as she pulls him through his burning house, past where the pictures used to be hung and the bookshelf - _why downstairs, not downstairs_ \- and he whines again to no avail.

***

Stiles breathing has calmed down, and he did not die of a panic attack. _Definitely not dead._

"Not dead," he says aloud, testing his voice. He feels drained and raw and thin, not to mention really sore from the beating he just got. He takes in the carnage of his room; its not bad except for the window, which causes a long groan. He doesn't know _how_ he'll explain that one to his dad.

He stands, mind racing. He can't get the images of the house - _that's Derek's house_ \- out of his head, and he still feels a mix of rage and sorrow so great he could burst into tears at a moments notice. He had mom and dad and sisters and cousins, and they all died, and he can picture them, foreign except for the strong feeling of family he now feels for them.

He shakes his head. _The body bags, how many were there?_ He can't do this, he has to go after Derek. He has to explain, to tell him all about why that happened, even if he didn't expect _that_ to happen. He grabs the silver focus he was using and stuffs it in his pocket.

His keys are in that pocket. He has the concoction in the other, something else Deaton taught him. _Protection._ He walks out of his room in a haze and doesn't remember how he gets to his Jeep, but he is there, fumbling with the ignition, starting it up.

 _Where would he go?_ Stiles thinks. He can't call Scott for help. Derek would hate him for telling anyone else what was going on. He can't call Deaton, as much as he would like to. Deaton can't know it worked on Derek, let alone all that Stiles now knows. _Laura comforts him, stroking his head, surveying the house with cold eyes..._

 _The house_. Stiles puts the Jeep into drive and heads for Derek's house.

***

Laura leaves him. She is suddenly gone, and Derek sobers to the moment.

_Goddamn Stiles. I will kill him._

He shouldn't have said yes to him, that much is for sure. If he had been thinking, he would have put it all together and realized that a spastic teen would make a horrible Watcher. But then, he's been making horrible decisions when it comes to teens anyway. He still can't get Erica and Boyd to commit to staying with him, though he took them in and saved their lives.

 _I wish Laura was still_ \- he closes his eyes so tight he can see stars. He can't go down that path. The hurt is so fresh, and all thanks to -

The image of a young woman comes unbidden. She looks like Stiles, in the eyes, cheeks. He thinks, trying to follow that flash down the path of memory. He can remember her standing over a birthday cake, smiling, and then suddenly he's at the hospital, and she's there, and he's trying to fight to get to her -

 _Jesus. I am going to kill Stiles twice for this_.

Derek doesn't remember hearing of bonding doing this to the constituents, but he hadn't had anyone immediate to him who had bonded. His mother had chosen not to and Laura didn't have a full pack, let alone anyone who could bond to her.

The worst part of it is there is now someone else with first-hand knowledge of Derek's failings.

Laura knew what she was doing. Or at least, if she didn't, she faked it well enough. When she left, Derek had expected her back within a couple of weeks. He kept working his night stocking job, knowing she would give him instruction to guide him. But she didn't.

Derek knows he has to get out of this house. _This rut_. He has to go, and try to shed the guilt. He will always feel responsible, and while he's glad Kate is dead he wishes bitterly that he'd done it. Or, if he could just go back, maybe tell her he loved her in a different way. Maybe she wouldn't have felt compelled to have them all killed, if he'd just loved her more.

That's when he sees a flash out of the corner of his eyes up in the rafters. He has never noticed anything there before. Derek walks over and reaches up. He has to make a leap, hanging from the rafter, but is able to grab it, a small dull silver box. He opens it tentatively, like he knows what's in it and doesn't want to.

A silver ring sits in the box. Derek gingerly plucks it from the box. It has a triskelion as the central formation, and the rest of the ring is made up of overlapping intertwining bands.

It won't fit on his ring finger, but slides onto his pinky just fine. That's when he feels it, a tautness in his body and mind, like something _more_. Then he realizes he has to get upstairs.

***

 _This is a phenomenally bad idea_ , Stiles thinks as he looks at the door, marked with the symbol of the Alpha pack. _If he's not here, and something else is...should have called Scott, dammit._

He pushes the thought out of his head. He enters the house, tiptoeing in. He thinks of calling out for Derek, but thinks better of it. He walks through the main hall, into Derek's work-out room, into the living room.

 _There were pictures there_ , he thinks, images of family photos flashing in his memory. As he leaves the living room, he begins to feel rage pooling in him, rage and shame, and his own face, framed by angry wolf hands, flashes in his head.

"Derek!" he whispers loudly. He listens carefully, but hears nothing. His steps through the house creak loudly in his ears. He touches the handle for the basement door, and feels a pang of fear, something more than the adrenaline-fueled fear he already has.

Stiles is grabbed by the back of his jean jacket and thrown against the wall opposite the basement stairs, and his eyes go blurry and water for a moment. He looks up, expecting maybe a really angry Derek, but instead sees Phillip.

_Oh, come on my luck._

Then Stiles feels something, like a slight spasm in all his muscles and a surge in his energy.

"Hello, Stiles," Phillip says in the flat voice of his, oblivious to whatever just happened to Stiles. "To be honest, we didn't expect anybody to come back to the house. We thought we had it to ourselves. But I'm glad you came here."

Stiles shakes his head, trying to shake the hurt off. "Well I keep telling Derek he needs to clean this place up, and late night seemed like the best time."

Phillip walks to stand over Stiles, looking down, and his eyes glint. "You smell like a spell. Tell me, what have you been doing tonight?"

Stiles chokes back a laugh. "I have this problem with body hair, you wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I read about this glr-"

Phillip grabs his throat suddenly, and as he lifts, Stiles grabs the arm with his hands. Phillip pushes him into the wall and growls. _Fuck my luck. Kill me now._

"Put him down," Derek grates out from behind Phillip.

Without moving, Phillip smiles. "Ah, Derek. Glad to see you've recovered from - what _was_ going on just now?"

Derek growls. Phillip tightens his grip, and Stiles gurgles air out his mouth. He reaches one hand down into his pocket - _come on, go-go-gadget stretch arm_ \- and grabs a handful of the powder.

"Drop him now." Derek holds up his hand, a new ring glinting on his pinkie for Phillip to see. "I will give you this."

"That's more like it," Phillip purrs. He drops Stiles unceremoniously, who coughs. His throat hurts, and he silently curses werewolf strength, but gets up from all fours.

Derek is holding the ring out and Phillip moves to grab it. Stiles jumps to Phillips side, throwing the powder in his face. Derek leaps back, snatching his hand back.

"Bad - move -" Phillip coughs. He stumbles, tries to catch himself, and Derek punches him to the ground, where he doesn't move.

"What is it?" Derek asks.

"You don't want to know. Also, stay away, you don't want to breathe it either." Stiles coughs again, and he can see Derek furrow his brow.

"Come on," he says, pulling Stiles' arm over his shoulders and bodily walking him out of the house. They make it to the Jeep, and Stiles belatedly realizes the alphas are there, collecting at the woods' edge. They don't accost them as they drive away, Stiles slumped in the passenger seat, Derek driving.

 _I don't think anyone has driven this but me_ , Stiles thinks. He is too tired, and beaten, to consider it further.

His father isn't home yet. Derek helps Stiles into the house, gets him upstairs, where Stiles can clean up. Stiles is in the bathroom, shaking, washing his face, brushing his teeth. _This is my life now_.

This was his life since Scott got bitten. This wasn't his choice, but if he _had_ the choice, it may have been. Things have been crazy, but maybe - _just maybe_ \- everything was looking up.

Derek is sitting in Stiles' computer chair, mussed, dirty and ruffled. The window is a gaping hole that will need some sort of fix, and Stiles doesn't even want to think of what his father is going to say, or how he is going to explain it.

"I will pay for the window," Derek offers, frowning.

"Thanks, but it would be weirder trying to explain you paying than coming up with something else. We have home owners insurance." Stiles runs his hand over his head, sitting on his bed. It seems like hours have passed, maybe days, since he bonded with Derek. The images - _memories_ \- still loom in Stiles' memory, and his heart hangs heavy with this new grief. There is something else there, too, like a potential energy, and it is tingly and - _and very nice_.

Derek stands, moving close to Stiles. Stiles heart leaps, probably pounding again. He looks up, lips parted, and for once he doesn't feel the need to talk, to fill the empty space.

"I can't see you again," Derek says.

Stiles blinks. His mouth moves, but nothing comes out.

"I will work with you and Scott to drive the alphas out. Once that's done, I'm leaving."

Derek is standing over Stiles, and where just a second ago it was all possibilities, slight arousal, heart pounding, now it is rejection.

"Oh." Stiles blinks. "And, how am I supposed to deal with all this, all of your memories? I feel like I just lost my family, my mother, my sister..." Stiles looks away, eyes welling up.

Derek looks torn, teeth bared and face taut. "I don't care," he growls. "But if you tell _anyone_ -"

"I won't," Stiles squeaks, because it's true, he couldn't do that. "But I need some _help_ -"

Derek closes the space between them and puts a rough hand on Stiles' cheek. Stiles sees black tendrils begin to come out of him and into Derek. Stiles instinctively grabs Derek's wrist, eyes searching Derek's frowning face.

"I can't even help myself," Derek says sadly. He releases Stiles and walks out of the room.

"Derek," Stiles says, aching. He feels better, if only a little.

Derek doesn't look back. Stiles can hear him go down the stairs and exit the house.

Stiles wipes his eyes with his sleeve. _I'm on my own, again._ He moves to get the mountain ash powder, setting his mouth as he does.

***

Derek sits in Isaac's house - _the pack house_ \- flipping the ring over in his fingers, again and again. He knows the ring is a focus meant for a bond, but he doesn't know why it was up there. Or why, for that matter, Deaton had a silver amulet to give Stiles.

 _Huh_.

Derek had told Isaac of his plan to leave. He offered to take Isaac with him, and they could continue to be a pack. Isaac said he'd think about it, and then went to Scott's.

 _He's been there a lot lately. I don't blame him_.

Boyd and Erica had tentatively agreed to go. The promise of a new life, and a new high school, and new challenges seemed to ring with them. He could start with them and they could make a new pack, somewhere new. Maybe he could take them to New York.

Derek considers giving the ring to the alphas like they want. It would be a small thing to do, and then Derek could leave. His instinct is to fight, but given the outcome of his last fight he isn't sure that's a good idea. He feels defeated. _Like before_.

He goes to bed late that night. Isaac must have stayed with Scott, because he hasn't come back. Boyd and Erica have been sharing a room since the middle of the summer. _It's good someone can make love work_.

Derek finally falls asleep, finding himself in a kitchen. He is stirring a thick liquid in a bright orange bowl. He is helping to mix his birthday cake mix. The pans are already greased and powdered, and he focuses on the calendar on the fridge, smiling at his day circled.

"You are such a good helper!" mom says as she comes back into the kitchen. She has put up her hair. She gives Derek a side hug. "Now, what's this I hear about you wanting to go by 'Stiles'?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "No one can pronounce my name. Have you heard people? The only person at school who can say it right is Lydia."

Mom kisses his forehead. "If that's what you want."

Then Derek is running, and it is raining, and he is crying. He doesn't stop running until he is winded and breathing raggedly. He can't go back to the hospital, where his dad is sitting, disappointed and sad and angry, where the _body_ lies.

Derek's phone rings, and he wakes up suddenly. He feels emotionally raw, again. _I am going to kill Stiles three times over now._

He grabs his phone and opens it without looking at the ID, belatedly realizing he should have looked, just in case.

"Derek, good, you have to come now. We were looking for the alpha's hide-out and we definitely found it and now they're kind of mad and have us trapped." Stiles is panting, trying to whisper.

Derek has always been good at taking direction. Point him someplace and he could go and do perfectly. "Where are you?"

"Uhhh, you're not going to like this, Derek, just warning you in advance. They're at your house."

Derek grips the phone tighter. "I'll be right there," Derek growls, angry at another transgression. But what did he expect, really? He has been dancing around the alpha issue, not quite sure how to tackle it, and Scott and Stiles have always been the go-getters.

"Derek, do you have the ring? Bring the ring," Stiles says.

Derek moves his mouth, not sure what to say. He doesn't want to give it up yet, he hasn't decided. He wants to know more about it, who owned it before him.

"I have my focus, Derek, so get here fast and let’s see how this works." Derek hears Stiles shift, can hear the ragged breathing. He feels protective again, oddly so to this hyperactive invasive teen, who wants to _use_ the ring, not give it up.

"I'll be right there," Derek says, and hangs up. He dresses rapidly, throwing his leather jacket on last and goes in to wake up Boyd and Erica. They are up and dressed in moments, all action and purpose. When they go outside to leave, Peter is leaning on the driver's door of the Camaro.

"Derek, it's great to see you! It's a good thing I wasn't being tortured or anything that would have required _saving_."

Derek stops, taking Peter in. He doesn't look any worse for wear.

"Where have you been?" he asks.

"Doing the things you aren't able to," he says. "And also, congratulations on finding a Watcher."

Derek growls. Erica and Boyd glance at each other, not sure what to do.

"No, I think this could be really good for you," Peter continues. "You've been working on Scott, and what better way than to join Stiles to you. Very clever."

"Out of our way," Derek says warningly.

"You're just going to charge up there?" Peter continues, searching Erica and Boyd's faces. "No plan? What was Scott's plan?"

Derek shakes his head. He doesn't have time for this. He pushes past Peter, who lets him by easily. Boyd and Erica share looks and get in after Derek.

Peter stands and waves obnoxiously as they peel off. Derek decides to call Jackson on the way, figuring any help is good help.

It rings a lot, then Lydia answers. "Hello?"

"Lydia, it's Derek. I need Jackson's help." Derek sets his mouth, prepared for rejection.

"Where? He'll be there." Derek gives her the information, impressed with her ability to light a fire under Jackson's ass.

"So what was that about Stiles?" Erica asks after Derek hangs up.

Derek looks at Erica. He has a brief moment where he considers telling her all, about how he thought he could gather a pack and strengthen it. _You can't tell her. It doesn't matter any more_.

"Later," he says uneasily.

As he comes up to his driveway, he sees two of the Argent's SUVs parked on the side of the road. Chris is standing in the driveway talking with three of his men. Derek is going to blast past them, because the last thing he wants is to have a conversation with Chris Argent, but Chris gets in the way, gun raised.

Derek rolls down the window. "Move now," he says as Chris comes around and the men stay in front of Derek's car to block him.

"Do you know what's going on up there?" Chris asks, glancing between the werewolves in Derek's car. His heart is steady - _it almost always is_ \- but Derek can smell the fear.

"Is Allison up there?" Derek asks.

"Yes," he says. "She got a call from Scott, who had a plan, and she decided to go in unsupported. She called twenty minutes ago, but got cut off." Chris looks like he doesn't want to be talking to Derek either, but is just as desperate as Derek usually feels.

"I have what they want," Derek says. "I will get Allison out of there."

"Not without our help you won't," Chris says firmly.

"Fine," Derek allows. "Cover the perimeter of the house. But don't come in."

"What are you going to give them?" Chris asks, waving his men out of the way.

"I only said I have what they want. I said nothing about giving it to them." Derek frowns and speeds up his driveway.

***

They have a door barred and Phillip is standing outside it, humming a cheerful tune. Stiles would like nothing more than to strangle the life out of him, and the thought gives him a smile in the midst of his panic.

Scott is covering the window and Isaac is waiting to do anything. Allison stands with her crossbow, her mouth a tight line across her face. Stiles has prepared defenses for the room, but not letting werewolves in won't get _them_ out. Especially since they're in the basement and the window looks only _just_ big enough for someone to squeeze through. _Easy pickins_.

That's when Stiles feels that tingle again, a positive energy working its way through his body and he knows Derek has arrived. _God that's going to require a 12-step program to not want that_ , Stiles thinks guiltily.

Stiles waves to Scott, who looks at him, then mouths 'Derek's here'.

"What?" Scott asks.

Stiles' mouth hangs open, incredulous. He mouths 'Derek' slowly.

Scott's brow furrows, then his eyes widen with understanding. He nods, and Stiles shakes his head. Stiles thinks he sees Allison shake her head too.

"Ahhh, Derek has finally arrived," Phillip calls from the other side of the door. "I trust you told him to bring the ring?" Stiles eyes widen.

"Scott, c'mon!"

Scott runs to the door, Isaac right behind him. Allison readies herself. Stiles breaks the powder link, and Scott throws open the door.

Two alphas stand directly outside and one lunges in. Scott grabs him, tossing him across the room. He is up only for a moment before getting an arrow in the face.

The other wolf has turned to run, and Scott looks back to make sure they're ready - they definitely are. They follow Scott into the dank hall and go upstairs.

"I am going up," Scott says back to them.

"You aren't going up there alone," Allison says.

"Seconded," Stiles agrees.

"Well let's go then," Isaac says, and they make their way up the second flight of stairs.

Jedrzej is holed up in one of the rooms, and his alphas are likely to be there with him, as they are all trapped in the house. Stiles had at least been sure to prepare for that, and Deaton seemed more than willing to help maintain the line, and let allies through when needed.

Scott and Allison go around one flight and Stiles and Isaac the other until they meet again on the landing. The two rooms to their right are burned out, the ones on the left intact, so Scott heads to the first room on the left.

The door to that room bursts open and two alphas bound out, followed by Phillip. Scott and Isaac engage in melee while Allison readies the crossbow, waiting for a good shot. Stiles begins the first of many incantations Deaton taught him, and it seems to be working until Phillip gets to Stiles and knocks him across the room. Phillip goes in quickly for the killing blow when Derek tackles him head on full force.

Boyd and Erica add to the melee, as two more alphas join. Stiles, though shaken, continues his incantation. Derek is a flurry of aggressive strikes, and even Scott is benefitting from the bond. _Should be, given the makeshift triskelion I painted on him_.

With three alphas down and victory nearing, Jedrzej lets out a mighty roar from within the Hale house, causing everyone to stop for a moment. Derek and Stiles share glances, as do Scott and Allison. Stiles gulps nervously, and Derek keeps his cool eyes on him, nodding. _We can do this._

"Don't go in there," Phillip says from the ground, two silver arrows sprouting from his legs and one from his gut.

Derek kneels in close to Phillip, eyes aglow, teeth bared.

"Don't say I - ah - didn't warn you," Phillip says.

Derek leads with Scott, Isaac and Erica in close tow. Stiles is following after with Allison when Derek crashes through the wall, a very angry and still enormous Jedrzej speeding through to continue the assault. Stiles leaps to the side, starting a new incantation, just for this situation. Allison has her special high-yield arrows readied in moments and fires them discriminately.

***

Derek knows the feeling of untethered rage, and he sees it in Jedrzej. He couldn't be more opposite right now. The tingling feeling of the bond innervates him, and he is parrying and dodges a particularly nasty blow as Allison fires arrows at intervals.

The pack is working as a unit, and Derek feels everything slot into place. _This is pack._

Jedrzej throws Derek after a lucky grab and twists a fist around, knocking Isaac through a wall, advancing on Allison and Stiles. Stiles moves in front of Allison, and both Derek and Allison look at him like he's the biggest idiot ever.

Stiles throws something at Jedrzej, who immediately knocks Stiles out of his way, who hits the wall with a sickening thud. Derek lunges at Jedrzej - _is Stiles ok? Check Stiles!_ \- and Jedrzej moves to Allison, who fires another arrow - which Jedrzej catches - and draws her silver blade. In a blur, Scott jumps on Jedrzej, plucking an arrow from his back and driving it into his eye socket.

The roar is deafening, and Derek stops, slack-jawed. Jedrzej flails, throwing Scott off, and falls forward. Allison deftly rolls out of the way into a kneel, readying the knife for a continued assault.

None comes. Jedrzej lies motionless, blood pooling out of his skull.

 _Stiles_.

Derek moves to Stiles, bringing him up in his arms, checking his breathing. _There is a heartbeat._ He still feels that potential energy, and looks for the pendant - it's around Stiles' neck. _If he dies your secret is safe._

No. Derek shakes his head. Stiles has become more. Attached. Derek was certainly not willing, but here it is, and now Stiles can't leave.

Phillip is gone. Allison is breathing heavily. Isaac comes into view, standing next to Boyd and Erica. Stiles lies motionless in Derek's arms.

Scott gets up and surveys them all, and his eyes flash a brilliant red.

 _Fuck_.

"Call an ambulance up here _now,_ " Derek commands. Everyone looks at him, and he doesn't have time for this. He begins to carry Stiles down the stairs when Stiles moans.

"Oh man, my luck," Stiles complains.

"Shut up, Stiles." Derek doesn't care how it sounds.

"No, I'm fine," Stiles slurs. "S'good."

Derek carries Stiles outside where bodies lay on the ground and Argents are standing behind Deaton. Once Deaton sees the form in Derek's arms he breaks the circle and lets him through.

"No, really," Stiles tries again, voice still sounding - _not quite right_.

"We need to get him to the hospital," Derek barks out.

"What happened?" Deaton asks.

"He stood between the prime and Allison," Derek says.

"Quickly, put him in my Tahoe," Chris says, then: "Is Allison okay?"

"Yes," Derek nods, making solid eye contact.

He props Stiles in the backseat, then doubts whether he should go or not. It might not be the best idea for him to bring Stiles into the hospital, with the witnesses - _you knew you would fuck him up_.

Then Stiles grabs Derek's hand and mumbles "Derek?"

Derek sighs and leaps into the truck and one of Chris' agents speeds them to the hospital.

Derek carries Stiles into the emergency department, where the front desk attendant sees them, eyes going wide. He flags down a nurse, and then Stiles is taken from Derek, wheeled away on a stretcher. Someone recognizes Stiles, because they order someone to call the Sheriff.

 _You may have killed him_. Derek stands there like an idiot, not sure what to do or where to go. _You could have saved him by saying 'no'_...

Then Derek's phone rings, and it's Peter.

"What?" Derek growls, demanding and angry.

Peter 'tsks.' "You'll never guess what happened tonight, Derek."

"I know what happened," Derek says, still feeling frozen in place. Then he doesn't feel it anymore, the tingle or tautness or - _Stiles_.

"So what are you going to do with another alpha in town?" Peter asks, teasing.

"I don't know," Derek growls.

"Well, I suspect Jackson will have some demands of you now that he's more powerful." Peter chuckles slightly and hangs up.

_Fuck. The fuck._

***

Stiles is released after a night in the hospital. Scott's mom has to give Stiles' dad extra reassurances, but they are given and he takes Stiles home.

Stiles waits for the questions he knows are coming, but they don't come on the ride home. His dad is frowning, glancing over every now and then. He helps Stiles into the house, even though Stiles can walk fine now. It was a fractured rib and a concussion, and Stiles now has some nice pain meds if he needs. _Can't wait to see how they interact with the Adderall_.

Stiles sits at the dining room table, watching his dad try to cook in the kitchen. There is a reason Stiles is the cook of the family, and this is it.

"Where were you last night?" his dad asks, worry tingeing his voice.

"I was out with friends," Stiles lies.

His dad turns. "With friends?" He waves his palm, pointing to Stiles' body, and says "and how did this happen?"

Stiles sighs. "Dad, can we just - not talk about this tonight? Please?"

His dad purses his lips, giving a nod. He turns to cook again.

"I just don't understand why - how this keeps happening. It wasn't even four months ago you came home, beaten to a pulp. And now-"

_Is he choking up?_

"Dad," Stiles squeaks, not sure how to keep saying the same thing and have it be as comforting. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not fine," his dad says, raising his voice. "How the hell am I supposed to protect you when I don't even know - what from?"

Stiles stares at him. "I don't know."

"Should I ground you? Keep you in the house except for school and lacrosse?" His dad shakes his head, thankfully disregarding those thoughts. "I want you to be safe, happy and make it all the way through high school."

"I will, dad." Stiles works his mouth, unsure of what to say. "Dad, I should - go to bed. I feel tired."

His dad nods slowly. Then he turns around and collects Stiles into a hug as he goes by.

"I love you."

"I know, dad. I love you too." Stiles bites down on the emotions working their way to the surface, and goes up to bed.

That night when he closes his eyes he is on the sidelines, watching the other kids play lacrosse. He likes to come here because he imagines playing with them, being awesome, making all the best plays.

"How come you're not playing?"

Stiles looks over, startled, at a beautiful young woman. She can't be that much older than him, and - _wow, her smile is gorgeous_.

"Uh," Stiles gets out. He works his mouth a bit, then says "It's not my thing."

She looks Stiles up and down - _is she checking_ me _out?_ \- then says "You look like you'd be a good player. What's the _real_ reason you're not playing?"

Stiles doesn't know what to say.

"It's ok," the woman says after a moment. "I'm Kate, by the way."

Stiles chuckles nervously, then sticks out his hand. "Derek."

She takes his hand, shaking it. "Nice to meet you, Derek." After a pause, she adds "Want to go get something to drink?"

"I, uh, what?" Stiles thinks he just got asked out, but he really can't believe that, because it's never happened before.

"Or eat," Kate says, smiling. "If you have time."

Stiles smiles widely. "I have time."

Then Stiles is having sex with Kate, and she is rough and bites - _hard­_ \- and it is fun and makes him nervous and horny all at once. He doesn't last long, but she doesn't seem to mind. That's when she mentions she likes dominating, and using things - _toys_ \- and Stiles gulps and says he's all for trying things.

Then Stiles is sitting with Kate in the woods, and he brought a picnic, and he is nervous, because he is going to tell her. He really wants her to know, and despite what his parents said about telling others he thinks she will handle it fine. He is in love with her, and she has started saying the 'l' word too.

"I'm a werewolf," Stiles says awkwardly as she puts a sandwich together.

"You're what?" she says.

"I'm a werewolf," Stiles says, smiling nervously. "I want you to know."

"Prove it," Kate says, eyes challenging him.

Stiles smiles wide now, and shifts.

Kate doesn't jump or even look surprised. "That is impressive," she says, more carefully. "Guess I don't have to go so easy on you during sex, then." She smiles wickedly, and Stiles smiles back, nervously.

"So, are you the only one?" Kate asks, handing him a sandwich.

"Nope," Stiles says, taking the sandwich and shifting back. "Most of my family are werewolves too."

"That's really unique," Kate says after a moment. Her look is unsettling in that moment, and Stiles wakes up sweating profusely.

_Fuck me._

***

Derek stops and buys a cake because there's no way he will be able to bake one.

Today is Stiles' birthday. Derek debated for days whether or not he was going to do anything. Stiles has not called him since the house, and Derek owes him a thanks for his part in killing Jedrzej and driving the alphas away.

Derek had taken Stiles to the hospital, but when he got back to the house Scott and Boyd showed him what Jedrzej was doing in the house. There was a great deal of ritual materials in the room and a large drawn circle on the floor. _Spells_.  
Derek looks down at the bag again, still unsure. It's a vanilla cake with sprinkles on it, and it says 'Happy Birthday' on the top. It is way too... _emotional_ for Derek, but he thinks Stiles will like it.

After Jedrzej was dead, Derek began thinking about his pack and how he could still make things work in Beacon Hills. Reliving his worst memories made him think he wouldn't be able to face anyone again. The way his pack worked together that night was the catalyst for thinking... _stay_.

 _And Stiles was the center of that_.

Derek is pretty sure that Stiles likes him. _Likes likes me_. There are all the signs, and the awkwardness, but even then he would hate to be wrong. _I can't be that wrong again_. Derek knows it would kill him.

Derek waits until the sheriff's car pulls out of the driveway, then waits for ten minutes more just in case he forgot something. He leaps deftly from the oil tank to the garage roof, then up the Stiles' window. _Which is now fixed_.

Stiles is not in his room, so Derek pulls open the window and - _I can't get in._ Derek tries again, and realizes he really can't get in. _Really?!_

Of course. Stiles was protecting himself. It all makes sense now, and Derek has a pang of guilt. _If I hadn't left him, if I had said I'd protect him_...

Then Stiles enters his room, sees Derek at the window, and yelps surprise.

"Derek?" Stiles runs to the window, breaking the line of mountain ash powder, and Derek leaps in.

Stiles notices the bag immediately. "What's that?"

Derek looks around the room, takes in the familiar sights and smells. He pulls the cake out of the bag and hands it to Stiles.

Stiles takes it, looking at it like he's never seen a cake before, and then looks up at Derek.

"I... don't know what to say," he says.

"'Thank you' will suffice," Derek suggests.

Stiles laughs at that, and Derek turns up the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks," he says. "What's the occasion?" Derek detects the increase of heart rate, smells the sweat production.

"Happy birthday, Stiles." Derek sits on the bed, pulling out the half-gallon of milk.

Stiles stares at him, mouth moving silently. "I don't-"

"I know," Derek says, quietly. "But you deserve it."

Stiles looks dumbfounded, but nods. "Thanks." Then: "Should I get glasses?"

"Or don't," Derek says, opening the milk and offering it to Stiles.

Stiles shrugs and takes a swig. Derek pops the top on the cake and pulls out the paper plates and plastic forks he bought. He cuts Stiles off a piece, and a tinier piece for himself, then serves it to Stiles.

"Thanks again," Stiles says, trying not to look at Derek.

"Thank you," Derek says.

"For what?" Stiles says, meeting his eyes, mouth now full of cake.

"For being... you," Derek says.

Stiles smiles widely then, and grasps Derek in a sudden hug. Derek drops his cake to the bed and before his brain can process - _hug him back?_ \- Stiles pulls back.

"I don't think I've had a birthday in..." Stiles stops.

Derek doesn't say anything. _He smells nice_.

Stiles takes his cake back up, savoring it. "So is this also make-up cake? Are we making up here?"

Derek isn't quite sure what that means, so he finishes chewing, brows furrowed.

"Well, you kind of did the whole 'I'm leaving' thing and it was right after we bonded, so-" Stiles stops, putting down a fork full of cake. "Are you... leaving?"

"Derek shakes his head slowly. "I don't think so."

Stiles smiles, looking relieved. "Oh good. I was - well, good." Derek notices the smudge of frosting on the corner of Stiles mouth. _Lick_. He's going to need to get a CT scan or something.

"So, have you been... having dreams?" Stiles asks suddenly.

Derek looks away - _and can see Stiles' mother, alive and dead and_ \- "Yeah," he says.

"So, you know all about-" Stiles stops, looking horrified.

"The bond wasn't one way." Derek puts his plate aside. Stiles looks profoundly uncomfortable. _Now you know how I feel_.

"I had a dream the night after I got out of the hospital about Kate," Stiles says. "Seriously heart breaking, and seriously what a bitch."

"I... was young," Derek manages out. He's feeling the instinct to leave now, before this conversation touches on things, things Stiles is bound to know now.

"Oh, dude, of course!" Stiles says quickly, eyes wide. "She was manipulating you from the start, there was no way you could've know what her plan was."

Derek shakes his head, thinking of the family that he helped kill.

"I know what you're thinking," Stiles says solemnly, "and you can't think that. I saw the bodies and felt - hell I _still_ feel the guilt, but it just wasn't-"

"Stop," Derek interrupts. He stands suddenly. "I should go."

"Wait!" Stiles says. "Please don't. This is literally the best birthday I've had since - since -" Stiles looks away, pursing his lips, then looks back.

Derek stops because he knows. He can feel that guilt too. _What's a little more?_ He sits back down on the bed.

"Ok, thank you. I won't talk about - we don't have to talk about any of that. How about - about the pack?" Stiles is finishing his cake, heart beating fast.

Derek nods. "Ok."

"Has Scott called you?" Stiles asks around a mouthful. "I told him we were bonded before we got into all that trouble with the alphas, and he was pretty upset, but got over it when he benefitted from those super powers."

Scott hadn't talked with Derek since that night. Jackson had announced suddenly he was moving out of town and Isaac had said he was joining Scott's pack. Erica and Boyd were still his - _for now, anyway_ \- and of course Stiles was his -

 _Is he mine_?

The thought jars Derek's brain for a bit. He has been feeling the slow assimilation of Stiles into his pack, starting before the bond even, but the bond amplified it - _and a lot of other things too._

"Scott hasn't called me," Derek admits.

"Oh," Stiles says. "So, how does this work? I'm part of your pack, right?"

"If you want to be," Derek says carefully, wanting - _needing_ \- for Stiles to say yes.

"Yeah, I want to be. I just can't leave Scott hanging, I've been there with him from the beginning." Stiles bites his lip and takes a breath. "You _could_ join Scott's pack."

Derek snorts. The thought had occurred to him, he can't pretend it didn't. The idea of joining a pack led by a hormone-addled teen doesn't appeal to Derek. _He is very good planner, though..._

"Oh come on," Stiles says. "You're not, you know, doing so great when it comes to the planning-" and Derek glares at Stiles, who waves a hand in front of him, saying quickly "but you are really good at the action stuff, really!"

Derek sighs. He would be surrendering his control if this happened. He promised himself he wouldn't surrender control once he got it. _But Stiles is right, I'm a shitty leader..._

"I will consider your opinion as my Watcher," Derek says, eliciting a smile from Stiles.

"Thanks," he says. He gulps, flushing slightly. "Do you want to go out with me?"

Derek's brain stops. _He just asked me out_. _I think_.

Stiles turns red, heart racing, sweating. "I can't believe I just asked that, of course you don't want to date me, I mean, are you even - you know, interested in - people like me? By which I mean, me?"

_Yep, he asked me out. Fuck._

"Stiles," Derek starts. Stiles is hanging on his words now, and Derek feels horrible. Part of him wants to say yes, hug him - _kiss him_ \- and erase all that worry and uncertainty. Part of him doesn't want to be in a relationship ever again. It seems so much easier that way, no issues and no drama. "You know about the last person I dated."

"Yeah," Stiles says, standing and beginning to pace. "I know it's not fair to compare this to that, too." He stops in front of Derek, hands out, palms up. "Crazier things than this have happened in this town and we seem to be doing alright with those."

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sighs. Stiles crosses his arms, nodding.

"No, I understand. I'm too young. Or do I just annoy the hell out of you? Talk too much maybe? Why not, I'm getting rejected all over the place," Stiles raises his voice and his hands. "I can't seem to manage a friendship other than with Scott, no woman has been interested in anything about me _since my mom_ and my dad, bless him, is so busy with work sometimes I wonder how well I know him." Stiles pants, licking his lips with a flick. His hands fall, defeated, and he says plaintively "When is it _my_ turn? When is it Stiles' turn?"

Derek stares at Stiles, keeping his face passive. He thinks about his family - _the enormous violation of my feelings_ \- Deaton's comments, about this voracious young man in front of him who is a part of everything and nothing all at once. _Like me._

Stiles blows air out of his mouth, setting his jaw. "I don't even know why I like you. I don't know why I asked you." Stiles points to the window. "You should go."

Derek stands, ready to do as he asks. If he can't give him what he wants, Derek understands why Stiles might not want to see him.

"Wait. Why?" Stiles reaches out a hand, lightly grabbing the sleeve of Derek's coat.

"I'm not a sharer," Derek offers. Stiles should know why by now.

Stiles looks disgusted. "No kidding. You make mimes seem like chatty Kathies."

Derek shrugs. "You can figure out now why I'm this way." His eyes find Stiles', and he frowns for effect.

Stiles moves his mouth soundlessly, finally clamping it shut and nodding. "I know. But," Stiles takes a step toward Derek, "how long are you gonna go on like this?"

 _Until the day I die,_ Derek wants to say. He knows what the world has to offer him. But maybe - maybe he can give Stiles some small amount of comfort. _Comfort I cannot take for myself_.

"It's not your fault," Derek says to Stiles, quiet.

Stiles closes his mouth; it looked like he was about to say something. "What?"

"Your mother," he says simply.

Stiles just stands there, mouth agape, and then his face contorts into anger.

"You don't know," he says, "you don't know. You don't get to throw that in my face after I tried to tell you-"

"This is different," Derek says.

"I was out," and Stiles points out, to nothing, "I knew the danger -"

"You were eleven," Derek says over him.

"I just kept calling her and then -" Stiles chokes up.

"You couldn't have known," Derek says. "She was an adult, and made a decision that caused her -"

"Don't you fucking say it!" Stiles yells, closing in on Derek, grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket. Tears are welling up, and Derek can see Stiles is shaking. Derek can hear his breath hitching, heart pounding.

 _Hug him_. He remembers the way it felt to hug Dominika, can even remember her smell - _lavender and Secret_ \- and the feelings he has for this foreign woman propel his arms up and around Stiles' shoulders. 

Stiles bows his head, accepting the hug, and Derek pulls him close, hand on the back of Stiles' neck pulling out some of the pain. Stiles lets go of the tension and cries. He smells like old deodorant and outside and teenager. Derek bows his head next to Stiles', allowing their cheeks to touch.

"Oh my god," Stiles says into Derek's chest after finishing, "I am bawling my eyes out into your chest."

Derek snorts lightly. "I'll send you a bill for the jacket."

Stiles pulls his head away enough to look at Derek's face. "That's great," he sniffles. "Can we call it a wash, given that you smashed my _window out_ and I had to explain that to my dad?"

"How _did_ you explain that to your dad?" Derek asks, eyebrow cocked.

"Oh," Stiles says as he brings a hand up to wipe his eyes dry, "plasma vortices."

Derek looks at Stiles, not knowing at all what that means. Stiles says "You know, unstable electric storms in the upper atmosphere interact with stuff on the ground, and this is a horrible explanation, I'm just glad I found something that confused my dad enough to bypass serious discussion."

Derek isn't sure whether or not the hug is done, and lowers an arm, keeping his right hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles releases Derek's jacket with his left hand, looking somewhat sheepish as he does it. Then he leans up and places a kiss on Derek's lips.

It's just a brush of a kiss, and it's nice here in this moment, but it still feels tainted, like it's wrong. _Oh god, I'm taking advantage of an emotionally vulnerable teenager_. He has a flashback to Kate, their first kiss coming back to him all at once as exciting, nerve-wracking, hormone inducing. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," Derek offers.

Stiles moves closer anyway, and Derek looks back at him. "Come on," Stiles says. I want my first kiss to be a _proper_ first kiss, none of that brush of lips stuff. If after you think that was a horrible idea and want to cease all relations, well, we can talk about it -"

Derek sighs and puts a hand at the small of Stiles' back, bringing him up for a deep kiss. _Not since Kate have you_ \- no, Derek is not going to ruin this. He is not going to compare. This is not the same.

The kiss turns into mouth action, Stiles hungry for more, Derek flicking a tongue across Stiles' teeth. _You're slobbering your way through this -_ no. Stiles hums satisfaction, and Derek can't blame him; it is a good kiss, despite his insecurities.

Stiles raises his hands to Derek's back, tentative at first, then puts in firm pressure, then begins moving his hand down, tugging at the base of the coat. Derek breaks the kiss away long enough to get the coat off, and Stiles jumps right back in, hands pulling his shirt untucked and then up his skin.

Stiles' hands are cool against his skin, but they feel good. Stiles is actively kissing him now, and his hands make their way to Derek's stomach, then chest. _Your hands, he will feel good_ \- Derek moves his hands under Stiles' shirt, eliciting a gasp. Derek detaches from the kiss and moves his right hand up Stiles' back, left hand up his front, and his mouth to Stiles' neck. Stiles groans, pushing his pelvis against Derek. He can feel the erection through his pants.

Derek breaks away, slowly, reluctantly. "I-" He doesn't know what to say. He both wants what Stiles is offering and wants to distance himself as far away as possible. _The bond is... sacred,_ Derek's mother says in his head _. It can be close, and it can be passionate._

Then it all hits him like a ton of bricks. His mother was bonded to _Deaton_.

"Deaton!" he exclaims in a low whisper.

Stiles frowns. "Not who _I_ was thinking about just now, and - actually, that is kind of creepy and a little weird."

"No," Derek breathes, "I just realized my mother had a Watcher."

"Uhh," Stiles says, "you don't say?"

Derek's eyes narrow, focused on Stiles now, and he realizes then that Stiles _knew_. He looks at Stiles severely.

"I was told never to tell anyone, and I keep my promises!" Stiles backs off a little bit, keeping his grip on Derek's shirt. "Just like I'm never telling a soul what I know about you, it shall go to my grave."

Derek shakes his head. He's going to have to think about this a lot. _I tortured Deaton, accused him of being the alpha._

"So, does this mean we can date? We are dating? Or something like dating but maybe only two shades lighter than dating-"

"Stiles," Derek says, sighing - _smiling?_ \- "just come here."

Stiles grins and embraces Derek. Derek hugs him back tightly.

"Can I just say you smell amazing?" Stiles says suddenly, interrupting the glow of the moment. "Also, you are like a super body heat producer, which I am grateful for because it gets cold up here in the winter -"

Derek pulls Stiles head back and kisses him again. _That should shut him up._

***

Stiles has had several more dreams, revealing yet more horrible, questionable, and otherwise disturbing things from Derek Hale's past.

Derek hasn't brought up any more about Stiles' past, for which he is grateful. Stiles is completely ready to pull out the hypocrite card if Derek wants to relieve him of a guilt trip while going on one himself.

Stiles waits at the lacrosse field for Scott to arrive. He is going to tell Scott today about he and Derek, that they are more than "friends." Stiles thinks he knows what he'd call it, what he's going to call it, but knows he can't say the same for Derek.

 _Fuck Kate Argent_ so _much._

There was a woman, a grown woman, who was able to seduce, manipulate, _torture_ and fuck up a vulnerable teen. Sometimes Stiles thinks Derek thinks he is playing the part of Kate in their story, and it disgusts him _so much_.

Scott finally pulls into the lot and gets out, popping his trunk.

"Little late?" Stiles asks, prying.

Scott turns his mouth up into a smile. "Was talking on the phone."

Stiles gasps, with a little drama added. "With _Allison_?"

Scott full-on smiles now. "Yeah."

"And?" Stiles carries his gear to the field with Scott.

"And... nothing is changed. It's just nice to talk to her like, like I used to." Scott throws his bag to the field, getting out a ball, cradling his stick.

"So, I'm dating Derek Hale," Stiles blurts out, because ripping off this band-aid is going to be a whole lot better than pulling it off slowly.

Scott looks at him for a second, clearly trying to transition from 'Allison Speak' to 'What Stiles is doing.' "What?" Then Scott drops his mouth a bit more. "WHAT?!"

Stiles nods, readying his stick, moving apart from Scott. He motions to get the ball, to get warming up started. "It's true and I want this and I want you to say right now that you're happy for me. Also, if you make out with him in some teacher's office, I will never forgive you."

Scott shakes his head dumbly, tossing the ball to Stiles. It is unfocused and wild and Stiles chases it down.

"I know you've been... _bonded_ ," Scott says, slightly nastily, "but is this the next step or something?"

"I don't know," Stiles says, tossing the ball wide to Scott, who easily manages to jump over and catch it, winging it back to Stiles. "Derek is damn good-looking, and for once someone is interested in _me_." Stiles has caught the ball and motions for Scott to get in the goal.

"Ok, dude," Scott says, moving to the goal, taking up a defensive stance. "Derek is just kind of... " Scott shakes his head, and Stiles knows what he wants to say: _closed. Broken._

"Old," Scott finishes.

Stiles laughs, and charges Scott, faking a right, then a left, then shooting. He doesn't see Scott's eyes flash, so he trusts that the catch is unaided by his wolfy powers.

Scott passes the ball back to Stiles. "So are you going to make some kind of plea for me to join his pack?"

"I could do that," Stiles says. "But you already know I'm sticking with you. I asked Derek to join _your_ pack." Stiles shoots again, and this revelation must've dulled Scott's reflexes just enough, because Stiles scores.

"He's not going to do that," Scott says.

"He might." Stiles grabs another ball out of his bag. "And if he does, I think you should accept him."

Scott prepares himself, and nods. "Ok."

Stiles smiles, happy that it didn't take more than that, happy that Scott isn't too terribly difficult. He gets ready and begins to charge.

"Have you had sex yet?"

Stiles throws the ball wide, completely missing the goal, and Scott grins. Stiles mouth works soundlessly, and he rubs a hand over his head.

"Not as yet, no..." Stiles gets another ball out of the bag.

"There's no pressure, man, just thought I should ask. I mean, I told you, so-"

"Yeah, no, thanks," Stiles says, preparing. "I'm, uh, working on that, though." Stiles charges and throws, but now he is thinking about Derek's body and throws one that's easy for Scott to stop. "Derek's got some, you know, reservations, and maybe wants to make sure I'm ready."

"Are you?" Scott asks, swaying slightly in front of the goal.

"Ohhh, yeah. I am ready. I've had blue balls for so freaking long, what with Lydia, and now I get to touch and kiss and-" Stiles blows a frustrated sigh out of his mouth "- yeah, I'm ready."

"Have you told him this?"

Stiles has another ball, and charges left, then swings low. The ball hits the edge of the goal, but Scott doesn't stop it.

"Not in so many words," Stiles admits.

Scott shrugs, tossing the balls in or near the goal back to Stiles. "You could put it out there. You know, _right_ out there."

Stiles gulps, collecting the balls around him. _And if he rejects me, at my_ most _vulnerable?_ "I could," Stiles says.

"I can loan you some condoms if you want," Scott offers. "I'm not using them right now anyway."

Stiles laughs nervously. _That would be a sign that is impossible to ignore._ "As long as what you mean is 'give' and not 'loan,' then I will take you up on that."

Scott smiles slyly. "And you have to tell me how everything goes."

"We made the original contract verbally before that, I want you to know I am in no way obligated to tell you everything." But Stiles knows he will probably share at least some of it with Scott, if anything happens, because _c'mon_ , this is Stiles getting laid here.

"Also, I'm thinking of getting a tattoo," Stiles says, and Scott's jaw drops.

***

Derek gets himself up to Stiles' window, which is open a crack. He can hear the music blasting and he can't quite believe what he sees when he peeks in.

Or can he?

Stiles is dancing around in his pajama pants, using his mouse as a microphone. Derek can't help but half smile at the sight.

That's when Stiles begins to sing.

"Hey, getting to know you, and this is craaazy! But here's my number, so call me wolfy!"

Derek can't help but smile at that. Stiles is stupid and funny and - _am I falling in l-?_

No. No no no no no. A thousand times. He can't. There are so many reasons why this is the wrong thing. He could fuck up Stiles in the same way -

 _No_.

And it would be his fault. It already is his fault. There is no turning back without drama or heartbreak.

 _I am not Kate Argent_.

No, he is Derek Hale. _Is that worse_?

Derek slides the window open and jumps through. Stiles turns around fast, throwing the mouse and settling on an awkward karate pose.

"Oh my god, man! You - you could knock - or call, or come -" Stiles glances at his phone on his desk. "You're early!"

"I got done early. I thought you wouldn't mind." Derek sits on Stiles' bed, looking it over as he does. It is made, but in that quick way one does for superficial looks. Not that it really matters. Derek has never been a bed-maker.

"I definitely don't," Stiles says, and Derek can hear his heart calming down. "Whew. You want something to eat or something?"

"You don't have to feed me," Derek says.

"I don't _have_ to," Stiles says, and sits next to Derek on the bed. _His heart rate is increasing again_. "I want to, ah, heh. Look at us, how close we are now-"

Derek rolls his eyes. "I would love something to eat," he says, getting up and going to the bedroom door.

Stiles looks at him walk by, mouth sticking out, and nods. "Ok, I can make something. Just be warned," he goes on as they walk downstairs, "my cooking skills lean toward low fat, low sodium and low taste."

Derek sits at the kitchen table, watching Stiles work. His mind flashes back to mixing his birthday cake - _that's Stiles not mine, fucking bond_ \- and he turns up the corner of his mouth at the bittersweet memory.

Stiles works easily in the kitchen. He is humming at first, then looks back at Derek, almost realizing he's there again. Then he stops working and comes to stand in front of Derek.

"I didn't get a hello," he says, tapping his foot on the floor.

"Yes, you did. You nearly jumped out of your skin." Derek half smiles, and Stiles beams at him. Derek could almost get used to that - this weird game where Derek smiles and Stiles smiles, just for him.

Stiles pushes a sigh out his nose, and Derek stands up, drawing in Stiles for a hug. His leather coat squeaks and the chicken simmers. Stiles lets out a satisfied sigh, and Derek enjoys it, feeling a pang of - _contentedness?_

Stiles pulls back, then gets up on his tiptoes to kiss Derek. Derek leans down into it, making it a little open mouthed because Derek wants that too.

Stiles leans his head back when he comes up for air. "That's what I'm talking about," he smiles. "Now I'll go over here with my boner and cook for my boyfriend."

Derek's stomach twists at that. It's not that he doesn't like the image, but - _I don't want to fuck him up_. Derek had never agreed on a title, either; Stiles had just sort of adopted the convention of dating and Derek hadn't stopped him.

Stiles resumes cooking. "So I think I stand a chance at being co-captain this year. Scott has been working me really hard, especially since he doesn't seem to understand the phrase 'No super wolf powers.'"

Derek walks over to watch Stiles cook. Stiles looks up at him, smiling again. _Isn't this weird?_ Stiles is looking at Derek _fondly_. There was always that little bit of something else when Stiles looked at Derek, but it isn't even guarded any more. _I don't know how to be that open_.

"And I'm not sad that he left, but since Jackson moved Lydia has been miserable to be around." Stiles frowns for a second, getting the rice going. "You know," Stiles says carefully, "I have a surprise for you. Two, actually."

Derek cocks an eyebrow. "Oh?" Stiles develops a sly grin across his face, but he smells nervous. Derek can imagine what the surprise might entail, and he has prepared himself to rebuff Stiles. _I want us both to be ready._

"And you'll never guess what it is. Not even a little. Go ahead, try!" Stiles finishes the chicken and begins making plates for them.

Derek lets out a 'Hm,' but says after: "That smells wonderful. You are really good at this."

Stiles 'tsks', but brings the plates over to the table and says "Don't flatter me until you actually try it. But after that, flattery will get you everywhere."

Derek sits, and Stiles sits next to him, resting his knee against Derek's. _Is this what_ this _is?_ Derek wonders if he won't fuck up Stiles more with his misconceptions of a relationship or what he thinks it should be.

"Thanks again," Derek says, taking a bite. It is really good, and it turns out he was hungry. Since he became alpha he noticed his body burning more and he was hungry more.

"It's nothing," Stiles says over a bite. "I have to remember to save some for dad. I usually get him prepared for a week by cooking a huge meal. This one will give him a meal I think." Stiles eats happily, and so does Derek.

"Shouldn't your dad have a vegetable?" Derek asks, just thinking of it.

"Hah!" Stiles laughs out of another bite. "Yeah, I'll make something like that later. I figured you'd be happy without a veggie, and I didn't want one."

Derek lets a laugh escape. Stiles grins in response.

Stiles cleans the dishes up when they finish, putting everything in the dishwasher. Derek pats his stomach absentmindedly. "That was very good, Stiles."

"Yeah, having this whole cooking skill has been very helpful. If you're very lucky I will cook all kind of things for you." Stiles smiles a tad seductively, then says "Would you like to know what your surprises are?"

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Hey, I've never gotten to do this. And-" Stiles stops, jaw working. "I mean, you _are_ attracted to me, right? Like, physically attracted?"

Derek sighs. "Yes."

"Good. ‘Cause I thought there was some sexual tension here. I just really don't want to be turned down with a 'I thought we were friends' speech, because I don't want to be just friends, thank you very much."

_God he is persistent._

"C'mon," Stiles says, grabbing Derek's hand, and Derek grabs back. _I can give little bits, in little bits._

They go back upstairs to Stiles' room, and Derek's heart starts beating faster. He is nervous, but not enough to show it.

"Ok. Ready?" Stiles asks, standing in the middle of his room. Derek looks around expectantly, wondering if he's ready for this.

Stiles seems to get his hesitation. "Ok, listen, this doesn't have to be anything you don't want to do, ok?" Then he pulls off his shirt, and Derek's heart skips a beat. _That isn't bad by any stretch_.

Then Stiles turns around, and there is a triskelion tattoo between his shoulder blades, just like Derek's. Realization sinks in.

"You _idiot_ ," Derek growls. "How did you even get that?"

"Called in a favor. I can only see it in the mirror when I contort, but I think it's rather fetching."

" _Why_ would you get that?" Derek really can't believe Stiles would do that. What kind of idiot would get a permanent mark on his body that says to the werewolf world 'I'm a Hale!'

 _Other than an actual Hale_.

"What?" Stiles says, frowning. He pulls his shirt close to him protectively. "We're bonded, and I wanted to show a little solidarity here."

"And what if this" Derek moves his hand between the two "doesn't work out?"

"Hey, I think we've been doing a good job of avoiding each other's damage - you don't get overwhelmed and break up with me and I don't say I lllll-" and Stiles continues the 'L', rolling his head, turning it into "like you. A lot." He runs his hand over his head, a tic Derek has long noticed. "I'm sorry."

Derek shakes his head. He really can't believe himself sometimes. He just doesn't understand Stiles - why is he trusting Derek so much? Why is this seeming to work, despite Derek's best reservations?

_Because he's a stupid teenager._

Derek remembers what he felt like - well, before Kate broke him. He wanted to be taken seriously, and if Kate hadn't preyed on that, it might have worked out much better. He keeps giving Stiles the benefit of that doubt, more than he feels comfortable with, because that's what he'd want.

"I appreciate that," Derek says slowly. "And I... really like you too."

Stiles stands in the middle of his room, and now he is beaming. He drops the shirt to the ground, then takes a deep breath.

"And now for your second surprise," Stiles says, and Derek can smell and hear the nervous.

"Stiles, wait."

Stiles does, breath heaving, cheeks rosy.

"Just - think about what you're doing. I don't want you - to do anything you will regret."

Stiles nods. "Thank you, really. And I want to assure you, right here and now, that I'm not doing anything I don't _want_ to. And, uh, if you don't _want_ to do something, things, then you need to tell me, because I've been thinking about this for a while, and the farther I go the more it will hurt to have you freak."

Derek thinks about that, because he really doesn't want Stiles to be hurt. In fact, he really doesn't want Stiles unhappy at all. _Unhappy means being with you_. No - Stiles can decide if unhappy means being with Derek, and he will accept the full effect of that if it comes to bear. And he would like to explore this - whatever 'this' is.

Derek just nods.

Stiles takes another breath, nodding back. He dips his hand in his pocket and flips something to Derek. Derek catches it easily, and - _a condom._

Then Derek realizes Stiles has worked his pants off, and his boner is pressing against his boxers.

"Suggestions don't get any more obvious than this," Stiles says, gulping nervously. That's when Derek realizes - Stiles isn't nervous about having sex with him, he's nervous about being _rejected_.

 _Jesus I am an idiot_.

"You are..." Derek says, not sure about what comes after. _Dive in_.

Derek closes the distance between Stiles and himself, shedding his coat in the process. He kisses Stiles and wraps arms around him, lifting him to the bed. Stiles lets out a gasp and a moan all at once, hands moving under Derek's shirt.

Stiles legs are wrapped around Derek now, and Derek moves to take off his shirt, and Stiles breathes out approvingly. Derek goes back to the kissing and Stiles makes with the hands again, finding Derek's pants button and popping it. Derek gasps when Stiles finds the zipper because then his pants are coming awkwardly down, and Derek grins nervously into the kiss. 

Derek lets Stiles roll him onto his back and then successfully works Derek's pants off, grinning in triumph when he does. Derek can't help but smile back, kissing him again, and Stiles' hands work their way under Derek's underwear, and he tenses, gasping.

Stiles stops, waiting, and Derek collects him back into the kiss. Stiles continues, getting his underwear off, and - _lord it has been a long time, and I am horny_ \- and then his mouth is on him, sloppy at first, hands still and concentrating. Then he gets into a rhythm and moves a hand up Derek's stomach, and - _that feels amazing._

Derek has the wherewithal to warn Stiles before he cums, and Stiles keeps going, taking most of it. Stiles licks up what he missed, tasting it appraisingly.

"That's about what I expected," Stiles says, wiping his mouth, grinning. Derek half smiles at him, head rushed with pleasure and happy for the first time in a long time. After a moment, Stiles leans down and begins kissing Derek again. _I need to reciprocate_.

Derek rolls Stiles over on his back, pulling off his boxers, kissing Stiles' neck and mouth and then his chest, working his hands over Stiles' body, tentative, then firm. When Derek grabs Stiles' cock, Stiles gasps satisfyingly, gyrating his hips slightly. _Let's see what this is like._

Derek licks his lips and takes Stiles in his mouth - _he is so_ hard - and finds it easy to get into that rhythm, and gets some tongue action in there, and the smell is all Stiles and sweat and sex. Derek rubs a hand up Stiles chest, using the other to cup Stiles' balls, then rub his taint. Stiles opens his legs wider at that, and Derek moves a finger to his hole, putting pressure on the outside with his whole finger. Stiles gasps loudly and practically yells that he is coming.

It's a bit awkward getting all of it - _and there is a lot of it, geez_ \- but Derek manages. He cleans up with his tongue, enjoying the taste and smell of Stiles, and looks up at Stiles. His eyes are closed, a huge grin on his face.

Derek lays next to Stiles now, head propped on an elbow, left hand tentative on Stiles' stomach. Stiles moans. "Oh my god."

Derek raises his eyebrows. His senses are coming back from their hormone rush, and is paying attention to Stiles rapid heart, visually matching the pulse on his neck. _He really is quite good looking._

"Oh my god, I imagined that would be good, but that was so much _better_ than good." Stiles lets go of another satisfied sigh, then opens his eyes, looking at Derek with a haze. "Thank you."

Stiles pulls Derek nearer and pushes him on his back, resting his head on Derek's chest. His hand finds Derek's stomach and he rubs it, exploring lazily.

 _Well that didn't fuck either of you up_. Not yet anyway.

"You're welcome," Derek manages.

"So, the world didn't end," Stiles continues. "And that was awesome. I really should have done that sooner." He laughs a little sarcastically.

"I think I dropped the condom," Derek says, realizing suddenly that he'd had it and then - _gone_.

"Heh, that's ok. I have a bunch." Stiles lifts his head, looking into Derek's eyes. Derek feels slightly uncomfortable but doesn't flinch. "I'm thinking we can use them later? Tonight?"

Derek raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I did some research, and I would like to experiment with - you know, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to fuck me just a little, I've been playing with that a bit and I got lube and everything-"

Derek half sighs and groans. It sounds exciting and like something he wants - at the same time it sounds like _more_ , closer, all at one time. _Can always see how it goes..._

That's what Derek has been doing here, little by little. Seeing how it goes, letting it go a little further, and here he is, enjoying the afterglow with Stiles.

"Ok," Derek says, accepting a kiss from Stiles.

***

Stiles' dad isn't in uniform. He is sitting at the table, waiting for Stiles. _This doesn't look good_.

"Have a seat, son," his dad says - _is that unease in his voice?_

"Ok, dad," Stiles says, rapping a little beat on the table after he does. "What's up?"

"I just want you to know I am proud of you, for using - protection." His dad shifts uncomfortably.

Stiles eyes go wide, mouth nearly on the floor, he's sure. _How - ?_

His dad forges on. "I wouldn't mind knowing about _who_ you're bringing home, son. Who is this girl?" he asks, hands on the table.

"Ah, well, dad, see that's the thing, he's a bit older than me-"

Stiles' dad holds up a hand. "You did use the 'he' pronoun, right? And how much older?"

Stiles gulps. "Five years?"

His dad shakes his head. "Five years, did you say? Son, that's ille-"

"I know, I know," Stiles interrupts him. "And it's not like he doesn't know that too-"

"Is he taking advantage of you?" his dad asks pointedly.

"No! God, dad, no!" Stiles runs his hand over his head. "This is entirely mutual and mutually beneficial, and awesome and- and..." Stiles feels like he is looking a little too desperately at his dad.

"Who is he? What's his name?" His dad crosses his arms, shifting again.

Stiles puts his arms out, as if that can stop his dad. "There will be no confessions until you promise you aren't going to go arrest somebody or, or anything else." Stiles sets his jaw.

"Stiles, I can't promise anything until you start talking."

"Well you're gonna need to, because this is working very well for me, thank-you very much. Besides, I'm not the only teenager having sex and I am _really_ horny-"

His dad makes a choked gurgle sound. "I did not need to hear that," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand.

"Yeah, you did. He is helping me, and we - we understand each other, I think. And it doesn't hurt that he's totally hot-"

"Stiles," his father pleads. He lets out a long sigh. "Ok, I promise not to _immediately_ go and arrest your - I mean, your-"

"Boyfriend," Stiles says.

"You _are_ dating him, right? This wasn't just some one night stand or something?"

Stiles shakes his head. "Nope, we're together." Stiles smiles just a bit, wondering how Derek would answer that question. If there was a word between 'fuck buddy' and 'bonded' that might be good.

"Right. Now, who is he?"

Stiles takes a deep breath. "Remember Derek Hale?"

His dad freezes, eyes searching Stiles searchingly. "Derek Hale?" his father repeats, incredulously. "As in, the Derek Hale you accused of killing that missing girl, who turned out to be his sister?" His dad shakes his head.

Stiles nods. "Yes, that Derek, and he didn't actually kill his sister. Or anyone," he hastily adds at a glance from his father.

"Oh, lord," his dad says. "I think I feel the big one coming on."

"Don't even joke," Stiles says seriously. His mind wanders to the image of his father at the Hale house after the fire. "Derek says you were there, at his house, after the fire." Stiles gulps. "He was really appreciative of the space you gave him and Laura."

Stiles' dad is looking at him with even more disbelief now. "He _told_ you about all that?"

_After a manner of speaking._

"But don't tell him I told you," Stiles cautions. "It's a... sore subject."

"Of course," his dad says, wiping a hand over his hair. "God, Stiles, Derek Hale?"

Stiles grins uneasily. "Yeah. Derek. And guess what?"

His dad looks at him, a mix of apprehension and terror on his face. "What?"

"He can pronounce my name," Stiles says.

His dad shakes his head, a hand over his mouth. "Ok. This Saturday. Breakfast, here." At Stiles look of indignation, he adds "This is a mandatory meeting, and we can go from there."

Stiles nods, not sure at all how he's going to break _this_ to Derek. Derek is just getting used to some level of affection, and what passes as openness for him. Stiles hopes this won't shut him down completely, because - _that would suck so hard_.

"Thanks for being honest with me," his dad says, looking like he wished Stiles were anything but.

Stiles nods. He goes to his room and texts Derek, and waits.


End file.
